


Show Is Over

by yukitsukihana



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Blood and Gore, Canonical Character Death, Found Family, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukitsukihana/pseuds/yukitsukihana
Summary: Kurusu Akira is dead. The show is over. Except a few stragglers refuse to accept it, and fight against the closing of the curtain.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by the wonderful [waywren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywren)! Thank you!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time keeps marching forward. What happens _after_ the Bad Ending?

This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out.

 

He pressed a hand to the gash in his side, trying to stem the blood, and bit down on the fabric of his glove in an attempt to muffle his harsh breathing. _They’d_ find him, were he too loud.

 

Speaking of…

 

 “Which way did the blasphemer go?” He didn’t dare peek out from behind his cover to observe the conversation, not wanting to risk being spotted. Besides, he already knew who was speaking.

 

“He can’t have gone far. Let us search the area!” He bit back a curse. Of _course_ they would want to be thorough. He could only hope that his dark outfit would be too difficult for them to spot, as there was little chance of managing an escape. “Found you, blasphemer!” Ah. No such luck after all, huh? Drawing on his meagre reserves, he summoned his Persona. Maybe he’d be able to buy a few seconds to slip away again…

 

A crackle of electricity and a cry of pain drew the attention of both him and his assailant, and they turned just in time to see a large pillar of flame engulf the other pursuer. “Found another one!” a familiar voice announced before jumping into view. “Wait, is that…?” As his attacker turned to confront the new arrivals, he took advantage of the distraction to let loose a Maragion. It was followed soon after by what he recognized as a Ziodyne.

 

When the Shadow had dispersed into smoke, he fell back against the wall, slinking down to the ground. “So, come to finish me off?” he laughed humorlessly. There was no way he’d be able to stand up to the others in his shape, a fact they surely knew as well as he. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable final blow, but the response had him straightening in surprise.

 

“Nah, man. You’ve done a lotta terrible things, and we’re still pretty pissed, but, like, we’re not gonna _kill_ you for it.” He tried to search the speaker’s face for any possible hidden motives, but the skull mask hid most of the features. It didn’t help that his vision was starting to swim around the edges, either.

 

The speaker was joined by another familiar figure, one clad in a red catsuit. “Besides,” she said, “we’re sure you didn’t _really_ want to go through with any of it…right?”

 

The anger and envy he’d felt those many months ago had long since faded, with only regret and despair left over. He couldn’t help the laugh that burst forth, catching the others off-guard. It was somehow especially amusing as more and more of those damned Phantom Thieves appeared, coming to see the wreck that he’d become. Eventually, the laugh broke off into a harsh cough. The Shadows from earlier had gotten a lucky hit in, and he was sure this was the end of the road for him. Finally. After everything that had happened, and all this time spent simply _surviving_. One of the Thieves stepped forward, uncertain, and he didn’t know if hate or fear caused their hesitation. Not that it mattered to him which it was. “That doesn’t matter anymore. Just go. Leave me to the next Shadow that passes by.”

 

“Akechi-kun…”

 

He really hoped his blurry vision was caused by pain and not tears. Gorou had been ready to die for a while now. Not that he was eager to or sought out a means to his end, but he’d been prepared for this moment ever since he’d put that bullet through Akira’s brain. A large, dark figure suddenly blocked out the light, and he looked up at who had dared to come close to him. Niijima? He couldn’t quite tell with his vision going, but there was no splash of color that indicated that it could be one of the others. Did she have some final words for him? Would she dare to finish him off before a Shadow or the blood loss got to him? She said something he couldn’t quite make out, then the world tilted dangerously. Gorou briefly felt like he was flying before the darkness caught up to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah yeah, I know it's super short. the following chapters will be longer I swear. as in the game, this chapter is a taste of what lies ahead. hence, 'prologue.' next chapter will start from the Bad End, and it'll be a while before things catch up with the present again
> 
> will be using Japanese spellings for the names, too, and some of the Japanese terms and nicknames that were changed in localization


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone tries to hold it together after Akira's death. Some handle it better than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor gore warning for a little bit of detail involving Akira's death.

 

Only once the door quietly clicked shut behind him did Gorou allow himself to sink to the floor of his apartment, no longer trying to quell the shaking of his hands. He’d hoped all the anger and rage and jealousy he’d felt toward the leader of the Phantom Thieves would dissipate after his death; that he’d feel some sort of catharsis about everything being over. But instead there was only regret and self-doubt. Had he done the right thing? The Phantom Thieves had hardly been the gang of cold-blooded killers he’d imagined they would be, and he had even _enjoyed_ being a part of their little group, if only for a short while. And Akira…

 

The gentle smiles, those casual touches, his teasing demeanor… A prankster hiding a gentle and forgiving soul. The number of criminals he’d let walk, trusting in their change of heart, when Gorou would’ve eliminated their Shadows without a second thought… He was ten times the person the detective would ever be, and he had ended that existence.

 

How hard had he worked to be accepted, to be loved? He’d spent his entire life striving to be _wanted_ , and that attic trash had gotten what Gorou so desired with hardly any effort. What made him so different?

 

And what had scared Gorou the most was that taste of _true_ belonging. Akira had thought him worthy of his friendship, maybe even of his love. But Gorou was beyond all that. He was nothing more than Shidou’s puppet now, unable to cut the strings that bound him and made him dance to his father’s tune. Shidou had wanted the Phantom Thieves dead, and Gorou, at the time all too convinced of their evil, had been more than happy to obey.

 

How wrong he had been. There had even been a part of him that had wanted Akira to succeed in whatever plan he had; to prove Gorou’s justice wrong, and escape that cell. But instead, there had only been that final look of fear as the gun went off, exploding the back of the head but leaving his face, and that expression, intact. How interesting physics was.

 

He balled a fist and slammed it against the door. That damned Akira… Even in death he still taunted him. Maybe if he finally killed off the rest of the Thieves, he’d be rid of this horrid guilt. Destroy the memory of that boy by eliminating all the ties he had, just as Shidou wished.

 

Fuck.

 

He’d won. The Phantom Thieves were the villains in the public eye, he the heroic detective that caught the leader, and said leader was now dead, body preserved in a morgue.

 

He’d thought he’d won. But he was still doing whatever Shidou wanted of him, wasn’t he? Would he ever be free?

 

Yes. He had to keep thinking that. Soon. The elections were only a month away, and when Shidou reached the highest point, that’s when Gorou would take it all away. And he’d be even more of a hero.

 

So why did he feel so empty?

 

* * *

 

 

Ryuuji was having a hard time hiding his grin. The news of Akira’s death was spreading like wildfire, and everyone was buying into it. They’d successfully retrieved Sae’s Treasure while Futaba was on computer duty, and soon Makoto’s sis would bring Akira home to Leblanc, safe and sound, and they’d all have a wild party celebrating the fall of another Palace and tricking that asshole detective!

 

The door jingled as he entered the café, and he spotted Makoto and Futaba sitting in the corner. “Oh hey, guess I’m early, huh? Any idea when the others’ll get here?”

 

“Ryuuji…”

 

“Ahh, what a good day, yeah? Hey Master, can I have some juice? We’re gonna celebrate!”

 

“Ryuuji.”

 

“You’ve contacted the others, right? When’ll they be here? Oh, and your sister, of course! She’s gotta drop off the goods, after all!”

 

“Ryuuji!”

 

His mouth snapped shut as he finally took in their expressions. “Huh? Why so glum? We won, right?” A sob from Futaba caught him off-guard. “…Right…?”

 

Futaba burst into tears, curling into the older girl, and that’s when Ryuuji noticed Makoto’s pained expression. “The plan failed, Ryuuji.”

 

A beat. “Wh-what?” Surely he’d heard that wrong. “Whaddya mean by that…?”

 

“There was a complication we never accounted for. He’d been heavily drugged, according to my sister. He kept mentioning the phone, but he couldn’t explain what was so important about it…” Ryuuji felt cold. Surely this was just a bad joke…? Futaba was still crying, though, with Makoto rubbing her back. “Futaba said it never got close enough to the decoy phone to activate. We failed, Ryuuji. Akira’s…gone.”

 

Ryuuji shook his head. It couldn’t be true-! Akira was too awesome to be done in by some _drugs_. They’d had a _plan_. He and Ann had even brushed up on their acting skills to pull it off! They’d fooled Akechi by making him think he’d really been one of them (there had been some moments, though, where he’d seemed _genuine_ , it was hard to believe that he was plotting to kill them all)! They couldn’t have failed now, at the end of it! But Futaba was sobbing, Makoto wasn’t smiling, and Soujirou in the corner looked tired, and not the physical kind.

 

He sat down very suddenly, not caring that it was the middle of the floor. Akira… _dead_?

 

He was too stunned to even react to the out-of-place cheerful jingling of the door, and the equally cheerful ‘hiiii!’ from Ann behind him. He was still too stunned to move when Makoto told the others what she had just told him. Too stunned to comfort Ann as she sunk to the floor with him, hugging him and sobbing into his neck. Barely registered Soujirou telling them they could spend the night. In Akira’s room. The attic that had slowly gained some personality with each gift they had given him, with the glow-in-the-dark stars in the rafters and the broken laptop in the corner still in the middle of being fixed and the perky plant whose soil was still damp from being watered. Akira would never be returning to this. To them.

 

Ryuuji stood suddenly, storming over to the door and yanking it open.

 

“Where are you going?” One of them asked. It sounded like Haru, but he really didn’t care who was talking. There were other, more important things to focus on.

 

“I’m gonna kill Akechi,” he stated simply, walking out. There was a chorus of cries and suddenly a lot of weight was pinning him to the ground. “Lemme go! I’m gonna kill that bastard! He killed Akira!” No one moved. “Why the hell’re y’all stoppin’ me?!”

 

“Ryuuji,” Yuusuke began. “While I sympathize with the sentiment of making Akechi Gorou pay for his crimes, confronting him would only result in _our_ deaths as well.” Ryuuji froze. ‘As well,’ he said. How could he accept Akira’s death so calmly-?!

 

“Yuusuke-kun’s right,” came Haru’s soft voice. “All Akechi-kun needs to do is accuse us of being Phantom Thieves too, and we’ll all be arrested.” ‘And die, too,’ was left unsaid, but everyone could feel it hanging in the air.

 

The weight on his back lifted, but there was no time for Ryuuji to get away as someone hauled him to his feet by the back of his collar. Turning his head, he saw Soujirou staring back at him with the same tired expression he’d worn earlier. Was continuing to wear. “Don’t throw your life away too, idiot,” was all he said, and Ryuuji’s shoulder’s drooped. Yeah, he knew he couldn’t really do anything. But dammit, he at least wanted to _try_.

 

A hand slipped into his and he looked over to see Ann. “Please. We don’t want to lose you too.” Ryuuji looked back down at the ground.

 

The clearing of a small throat brought everyone’s attention back to the inside of Leblanc, where Morgana hung from Futaba’s arms. “We have a name.” _That_ got everyone’s attention, and they all scrambled back inside, clamoring for answers.

 

Soujirou remained outside, shaking his head in confusion. How did a single cat’s meow cause such a riot? “Oh yeah, Soujirou.” He glanced up at Futaba. “Mona can talk. You just can’t hear him ‘cause you’ve never seen what he really looks like.” The cat appeared to meow again, and Futaba pulled at his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, we know, we know. Tell us if you want anything translated, ‘kay, Soujirou? We’re gonna discuss Phantom Thief stuff now.” Soujirou simply sighed, scratching the back of his head. What kind of plot had he gotten wrapped up in…?

 

“Spill it, Morgana. What do you mean by ‘we’ve got a name’?” Ryuuji asked, eager to take his anger out on anyone they could.

 

It was Futaba who answered. “I got bugging software in Akechi’s phone. Couldn’t hear who he was talking to, but I heard _him_ loud and clear. And he slipped up. Said ‘Shidou.’”

 

“So we were right in that Akechi-kun was taking orders from someone…” Haru, too, wanted to know who was behind not only Akira’s death, but her father’s as well.

 

“Shidou,” Soujirou mused. “You can’t mean Shidou Masayoshi, can you?” The most powerful man in the country, the shoe-in for Prime Minister… These kids had managed to piss off someone that powerful? And that bastard had ordered the death of his charge?

 

Makoto nodded. “It makes sense. The psychotic breakdowns and mental shutdowns that didn’t benefit Okumura – sorry, Haru – removed Shidou’s political rivals.” Haru shook her head. She knew her father was a terrible person, though that didn’t make his death hurt any less. “If Shidou’s controlling Akechi-kun…”

 

If that was true…then had Akechi Gorou truly wanted to kill Akira? They could only hope the answer to that was ‘no.’

 

“He already has a Palace,” Futaba continued to explain. “So we have that much. Just need the other keywords.”

 

“But…” Ann was still reeling from the news of Akira’s death, but this information was too important to ignore. However… “What are we supposed to do without our Leader?”

 

Silence reigned as they all pondered the question. He’d been the glue holding them all together, the one who was able to use each person’s individual strengths to form an unbeatable team. Without him, what could they accomplish? Would they be able to steal a Treasure without him? How far could they even get through a Palace without his intuition and guidance?

 

It was Morgana who broke the silence. “What are you all standing around moping for? Akira would want us to keep doing what’s right, with or without him! The least we can do is make sure the one who had him and a whole bunch of others killed confesses his crimes!”

 

Murmurs of agreement rose from the group. “Yeah!!” Ryuuji shouted. He couldn’t _wait_ to avenge his friend. Sure, he’d like to punch that Akechi too for carrying out Shidou’s orders, but he wasn’t the mastermind. “We’re gonna get that bastard!” His enthusiasm was catching, and soon, everyone was smiling at the prospect of justice.

 

* * *

 

 

_Hey, it can’t be true, can it!? Please tell me you’re ok! = >_

 

Yuuki waited for a reply, a call, some sort of sign, _anything_.

 

And waited.

 

Hours ticked by, and still there wasn’t even a _read_ notification on his message.

 

He tried to busy himself with the PhanSite, deleting numerous comments on the tracker. He even made a note that stated that one shouldn’t wish for anyone’s death. Every so often, he would check his phone, only to see his unread message staring back at him.

 

No way…

 

…Maybe he was just busy. Or the phone was still confiscated by the police. Yeah, that had to be it! He’d see him at school or- wait, no, school would be dangerous. He’d have to be in hiding. Or at least undercover or something. Maybe Yuuki would see him in Shinjuku or Akihabara, and they’d hang out like everything was normal. After all, there was no way that Akira could be dead.

 

…There was no way…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if Goro's thoughts seem like they're jumping over the place, it's because he's not exactly stable at the moment. though tbh I don't think he's been stable for a while now, poor boy...
> 
>  
> 
> how far do you think they'll get with the Palace without Akira?
> 
>  
> 
> have some minor shuuyuu feels too. ur welcome


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for gore in this chapter.

 

“Hey.” The café door chimed as it shut behind Ryuuji, and he slid into the booth next to Ann. Continuing to use Leblanc as a hideout without Akira around was kind of weird, but it just felt _wrong_ to move somewhere else. Besides, Soujirou was accommodating enough. “Any luck?”

 

“None. I’m almost finished with my section, too.” She sighed and picked up a large book that had been sitting on the table; a comprehensive dictionary.

 

Across from them sat Makoto, her own book sitting on the table next to a saucer. “We’re taking a short break for refreshments,” she said, taking a sip of coffee from her cup. “Please feel free to start, though. The sooner we find that keyword…”

 

Ryuuji pulled his own dictionary from his backpack, flipping to a tabbed page and reading off the words listed, already tuning out the voice from the phone stating that ‘conditions have not been met.’ Of course they haven’t.

 

While it hadn’t taken them long to figure out the Palace was the Diet Building, they still had no idea _what_ the cognition was, even after a week. After showing up in front of the building several days in a row and randomly guessing words, Makoto had suggested that they proceed systematically, and away from the eyes of any police. It most definitely wouldn’t do if they somehow ran into Akechi, either, so it had been agreed that the group would meet at the hideout and go through the dictionary for any and all nouns to see if any would be a hit.

 

Man, Ryuuji really missed Akira. He had some _monstrous_ intuition. It really had been because of him they’d always been able to enter Palaces so quickly, and right at the location, too. It was still so hard to believe he was gone. Every now and then, he’d swear he saw him coming down the stairs to the attic, but it was only Soujirou moving about in the kitchen. Stupid Akechi. Stupid Shidou. He nodded his thanks to Soujirou as a glass of juice was placed down in front of him and droned on.

 

“Fief, fiefdom, fiefdoms, field…”

 “Shining cuckoo, shinleaf, shinnery, shinny court…”

 “Monopoly, monopolylogue, monopropellant, monopropellant factory…”

“Field ambulance, field army, field artillery…”

“Shinplaster, Shinto shrine, shinty, ship, ship biscuit…”

“Monopsony, monopteron, monopteros-”

“Result found.”

 

It took a few moments for the Nav’s voice to register, then there was sudden clamoring over the phone to see _which_ word it had been.

 

“A ship?”

 

“But isn’t the building on land? How can it be a ship?”

 

“Palaces don’t always have to make sense. Remember Kaneshiro’s floating Palace, and Okumura’s space station? Maybe a ship’s flying through the air too.”

 

“Ugh, I _hope_ it’s not flyin’ around. One was more than enough.”

 

“We won’t know for sure until we get there. Let’s call the others.”

 

“You kids rushing into danger again,” Soujirou grumbled from behind the bar, shaking his head. “At least have a proper meal before you go, all right?”

 

“Oooh, are you gonna make us some curry, Soujirou?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. On the house today. But don’t expect this to be a regular thing.”

 

“Alright! Master’s curry!!”

 

Soujirou just smiled and shook his head. Kids.

 

* * *

 

 

“Gorou…”

 

“What do you want.”

 

“Aww, don’t be like that.” Arms slid around his waist from behind, and Gorou looked down to see Joker’s red gloves pressing into his suit. “Aren’t you happy to see me? I know _I’m_ happy to see _you_ ,” the thief purred into his ear.

 

“You’ve never called me by my given name before.” A beat. “This is a dream.”

 

A warm chuckle was his response. “I’m _your_ dream.”

 

Gorou shook his head. “No. You’re my nightmare. You’re dead. I killed you.”

 

More chuckling, and one of the gloves drew up his chest. Gorou gasped as it left a trail of slick, dark blood behind, seeping into his clothes, staining… “That’s right, you did.” He could hear the smirk in Joker’s voice, still teasing. Light caught the gloves, and the detective realized that it wasn’t the usual red fabric the other boy wore, but blood, vibrant and bright and fresh and the hand was still moving up, going for his throat…

 

Gorou struggled, breaking free of the embrace and spinning to confront this dream Akira. Though his mask was missing, the Phantom Thief’s leader’s demeanor was still that of his Joker self, not the mild-mannered façade he wore in public. That teasing pose, the cocksure attitude, the full-hearted laugh he let loose… The dichotomy between the two personas as it were was one of the things that drew Gorou to him in the first place. Still grinning, Joker raised his hand in a facsimile of a gun, finger pointing at his own temple. “Bang~”

 

Gorou scrambled back as the other side of Joker’s head exploded, blood, bone, and brain matter spraying their surroundings. And still, the thief was grinning maniacally at him. “What’s the matter, Gorou?” he cooed, not caring that he was missing a significant portion of his skull, blood and brains dripping down his face and staining the black leather coat red red red… “I thought you _liked_ this look on me.” The (dead dead _very_ dead) Joker then pointed his finger gun at the detective. “We can be matching buddies. What do you say?” The hand pulled back, an exaggeration of a revolver’s recoil, and suddenly there was a gun in Joker’s hand and a bullet headed directly for him-

 

Gorou shot up, gasping for air, hand fumbling to turn on the desk lamp on his headboard. A dream. It was all a dream. No, a nightmare. His hand clenched at the fabric of his pyjamas as he tried to control his breathing. He covered his mouth with a hand as his stomach twisted, and scrambled out of bed, just barely managing to get to the toilet before his stomach emptied its contents on him.

 

He wiped his mouth, trying to banish the vivid dream (nightmare, it was a nightmare) from his head, though it _had_ drawn from reality, which was even more disturbing. He didn’t know if it was cognition or the fact that they weren’t flesh and blood, but Shadows had never…done _that_ before. Whenever he killed one, there had always been a little blood, but that was all: a little blood leaking through a pinhole wound, before it, and the blood, evaporated into inky smoke. Gorou had thought that, after two years of killing Shadows, he’d be prepared for an actual human’s death.

 

He’d been wrong.

 

It had been over a week since Kurusu Akira’s death, and the lack of sleep Gorou had gotten in that time was taking its toll on him. He vaguely wondered if he’d ever be able to have a normal sleep again.

 

Walking back into the main room, he spotted the digital clock above his bed declaring the time to be 3:42 am in bright red digits (red like blood like Akira’s hands and clothes dripping staining tainting)-

 

He slammed the face down, trying to get his breath under control. He needed a new clock. Yes, green digits would be much preferable.

 

Instead of attempting to sleep again (he knew he couldn’t, not with Akira’s exploded face still so fresh in his mind), Gorou pulled a book off his shelf to read. He had to be at the TV station in three hours for a morning interview anyway, so what was the use in trying to sleep? A book would help soothe his nerves and regain control over the mask he wore in public. He was Akechi Gorou, calm, cool, collected, always friendly and smiling. That Akechi Gorou never had nightmares about killing someone. That Akechi Gorou never _killed_ someone. Or anyone.

 

He shook his head. Read. Don’t think, just read. Get lost in the story until the alarm goes off.

 

_Chapter One. The first place that I can well remember…_

 

* * *

 

 

Shinya kicked a can down the street, grumbling to himself. He hadn’t wanted to believe the news stories that the Phantom Thieves’ Leader was caught, but then came the announcement of suicide… He shook his head, growling. No way! Nii-chan was so much better than that! He wouldn’t allow himself to get caught, and even if he did, it was probably some awesome plan to make his enemies _think_ he was dead! Yeah! He had used that trick a few times in GunAbout; stop shooting, lay low, and when the enemy turns their back on you, you _pounce_. Yeah, that was it. That had to be it.

 

Akira-nii-chan couldn’t be dead… It’d be Game Over if he was.

 

* * *

 

 

Tae sighed, bringing up the notes she’d taken of Akira when he’d first agreed to be her guinea pig. An informal psych eval had been required, as she wanted to make sure the experimental medicine didn’t disturb his serotonin or dopamine levels, nor upset the balance of any of his other neurotransmitters.

 

In layman’s terms, there was no way the kid would suddenly suicide.

 

Her clinic might have been gaining attraction again lately due to Akira’s efforts, but that hardly made her qualified to override a police coroner’s decision. She tapped her pen against the desk, thinking. If only she could get her hands on that medical report…

 

* * *

 

 

“Suicide my ass,” Ichiko grumbled as she knocked back another shot of whiskey on the rocks. There was no way that bright boy, always willing to lend an ear and help those in need, asking for nothing in return, would commit _suicide_ , let alone kill a police officer in the process. There was something bigger going on, and that guard had likely been killed as a witness to the _true_ crime. She would get to the bottom of this, one way or another.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can the Phantom Thieves take down Shidou without their leader? how will the other confidants react to Akira's death? stay tuned!
> 
>  
> 
> kudos to those who know what book Akechi is reading


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: descriptions of a dead body in this chapter, but if the last chapter didn't turn you off, you should be fine

 

He hit the wall with a sickening crack, sliding down and going limp.

 

“Fox!”

 

“We can’t win this battle! Calculating escape route… There! Now’s your chance!”

 

Yuusuke felt arms around him and he opened his eyes to see the floor blur past him in a dizzying pattern. At any other time, he might have marveled at the way the various colors bled into each other, shining too-bright in some places and shadow-dark in others, but as it were, it caused his stomach to feel not unlike something clawing its way out his esophagus, and he shut his eyes again in an attempt to quell it.

 

Suddenly, there was a loud slam of the door, and then all was silent and still, save for ragged breaths. He felt himself being moved, though he was having a hard time discerning which way gravity was pulling, and was propped up against a wall. Ah, he must be sitting, then.

 

“Yuusuke-kun…?”

 

A hand touched his hair, gentle, and he leaned into it, only to pull away with a hiss at the pain the pressure caused. He blinked his eyes open only to a blurry and too-bright scene. There was a figure before him, their black outfit seemingly sucking in all the surrounding light, like a black hole. “Joker…?”

 

The hand brushing against his hair twitched. “…I think it’s a concussion,” came Queen’s distinct voice from the figure. Oh, not Joker. “Hold still a moment.” A familiar warm yet soothingly cool feeling washed over him, accompanied by a soft green light, and the pain in his head lessened. He blinked, but the room still seemed out-of-focus, light and colors far more vivid than he could remember them being. Hm, perhaps he should attempt a painting in this style. Oh, the others were speaking again. He attempted to look at the speaker, though he couldn’t remember who the last one to speak was, nor if he had been addressed at all. Then there was a cool wet feeling against the back of his head and his vision began to clear. Ah, he’d had a concussion. And that had been…a relax gel?

 

“Ah, I appreciate the healing. There was no need to waste an item on me, I’m sure I would have recovered eventually.” Most of their supplies had been in Akira’s bag, which was now sitting in police custody. They’d managed to scrape together some money for the clinic doctor’s exorbitantly-priced healing items, but it was a far cry from the stash Joker had carried around.

 

“We don’t have time to be carting around an invalid,” Morgana – no, Mona here – stated. “We need to find a Safe Room as soon as possible.”

 

“Mona-chan!” Noir held a hand to her mouth, shocked. How could he talk about Fox like that, and just after he’d been injured so!

 

“No, I agree with Mona,” said Queen. “We should keep moving. Besides, what use are these items if we don’t use them?”

 

Yuusuke stood up, holding a hand to his head at the sudden vertigo at the action. The dizziness quickly disappeared, however, the relax gel doing its job, and he took a look at their surroundings. It certainly seemed like a Safe Room at first glance, but there was none of the tell-tale warping and constantly shifting scenery that denoted one. “Where are we?”

 

“Just a regular suite,” Oracle’s voice came from the bed. She was sitting upright, tapping at her holographic keyboard. “It looks like the Shadow we just escaped from is checking each room for us, but it’s still got a ways to go. We should leave when it’s in another room, to avoid detection. You good, Inari?”

 

“Yes. Let us proceed.”

 

Shidou’s Palace was a nightmare without Joker. While Queen was a brilliant strategist and tactician, she needed time to think, which often led to dangerous hesitation during battle. And Joker often had intuitive knowledge of the weakness of several Shadows, even if they hadn’t come across them before, and they had encountered none of these Shadows prior, not even in Mementos. Not to mention that every ‘boss fight,’ as Futaba had dubbed them – the stronger Shadows, the ones that held the keys to Shidou’s Treasure – left them too drained to continue infiltrating. And these rat mazes…

 

The election was in two weeks, and they’d only managed to obtain two letters of recommendation. Yuusuke wondered if they would be able to steal the Treasure before this madman was elected Prime Minister.

 

“You mistook Queen for Joker earlier.”

 

Yuusuke looked down to see that Noir had fallen into step with him. It hadn’t been a question, merely a statement, so he inclined his head in a nod. “Their outfits are a similar color. I hadn’t been thinking clearly at the moment, so I had simply…forgotten.” It was still so very difficult to think about Joker’s death, let alone speak it out loud. How many times had he wished to see that distinct figure step up as they were failing, coattails swishing in a self-made wind, and calling upon just the right Persona to land a devastating blow on the enemy? But no, that would never happen again, and Yuusuke tried very hard to not think about just _where_ Akira lay at this moment.

 

“I miss him too.” Her admission was soft, barely a whisper, but it was a sentiment they all shared.

 

Not for the first time, doubt flickered in his mind. Would the Phantom Thieves be able to succeed without their leader? He opened his mouth and hesitated, unsure whether to voice his fears. Surely the others shared his opinion, but should it be said out loud? Things that were often tended to be final.

 

He was spared the opportunity as Queen, leading the group, held up a hand and immediately fell into a crouch. The rest followed suit. “There’s a Shadow up ahead,” she whispered. “We might be able to sneak around it, but if it comes to a fight… Fox, are you ready?”

 

“Thanks to you.” Fox slipped past the others to join the vanguard. Thanks to her earlier Diarahan, he was now the one in the best physical condition. He let his hand rest on the hilt of his katana.

 

“All right. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

_You know what will happen should you defy me._

 

Gorou leaned back against the wall, massaging the bridge of his nose. Kill or be killed, was it? Still, the election was a good two weeks away. What had gotten Shidou in such a panicked mood, afraid of betrayal? Were his co-conspirators backing out? No, that seemed unlikely; they’d want to benefit from Shidou’s rise in power. Could it be some loose ends that he wanted tied up so his election was assured? Gorou wasn’t sure if there was anything that could stop him now at this point, save for…

 

…It couldn’t be…

 

No, if Akira were still alive, Shidou would have gotten his pet Cleaner to take care of Gorou by now. But what could be causing such a fuss? He needed more information, and if Shidou wouldn’t give it to him, he’d get it out of his Shadow.

 

It took roughly twenty minutes to get from the TV station to the National Diet Building, and once there, Gorou brought up the MetaNav app. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in his father’s Palace, and it was entertainingly easy to move about inside, despite the fact that his outfit changed to that of an intruder. The Shadows and cognitions were more than happy to accommodate him and give him any information he desired, even though it was clear he didn’t have Shidou’s trust.

 

He blinked as he realized the scenery hadn’t changed around him, and stared down at his phone. He was sure he’d clicked the app, so why wasn’t it opening? He pressed it several more times, increasingly angry as to why it wasn’t working. He still had his powers, didn’t he? Whatever divine being that gave them to him hadn’t suddenly decided to take them away, had they? Surely if that happened, the app would have deleted itself, right?

 

Eventually, the app opened, but not to the familiar navigation screen he was used to. Bouncing on a white background was Alibaba’s distinct logo. Gorou gripped the phone tight, snarling. Oh that _vixen_. She’d switched his phone out for a very convincing fake, but _when_ -

 

_No._

 

Sae’s Palace, the briefcase Akira held when Makoto had said just days prior that it was a police notebook, and Futaba – no, _Alibaba_ – snatching his phone out of his hand…

 

He strode – not stomped; charismatic ace detectives did not _stomp_ – back to the train station. Was it possible? Was Kurusu Akira _alive_? Had he merely killed Sae’s cognition of him, as she had expected him to be in that room? That Akira hadn’t tried to say anything, save for Gorou’s name. Perhaps it’d been because of the officers’ ‘tender mercies,’ or perhaps it’d been because Sae hadn’t known Joker’s _true_ personality, unlike _him._ Clever, _clever_.

 

The precinct was far closer, though the trip seemed so much longer, and Gorou made his way without preamble down to the morgue. If there wasn’t a body in that container…

 

The drawer was yanked open and Gorou stared down. For a few brief moments, he had been hoping it would be empty. The prospect of facing Joker again, in true battle this time, with both of them at peak strength, had excited him. But instead, Akira’s pale body lay there. It had been cleaned up, Gorou noticed absently. The blood had been wiped away and the eyes closed, likely to hide the fact that it wasn’t suicide from the casual observer. That dark, curly hair did well to conceal the entry and exit wounds, too, and it almost looked as if Akira were sleeping. Almost. The tense expression of fear had been forever frozen on that pretty face of his.

 

Gorou ran his hand through the boy’s hair, ice crystals melting as they came into contact with his gloves. He ran a hand over his cheek, attempting to smooth features into something that more resembled a peaceful sleep, but the flesh was unyielding under his touch; frozen, dead. He drew his hand down, pushing fingers under the jaw, then further until it rested over his heart. No pulse. Of course.

 

He slammed the drawer shut, suddenly angry. How dare that Joker get his hopes up like that. How dare he be _dead_. Gorou wished Akira was alive just so he could kill him all over again, that perfect, perfect boy who always got what he wanted when Gorou had _nothing_. Wished he could see that look of fear and anger and _hate_ and _why had Joker never hated him?_ Even in his final moments, there had been fear, and sadness, but not even a _hint_ of hatred. Where was it? Why was it missing? Gorou killed him. Akira had known Gorou was going to kill him. Setting up that elaborate plot just for it to fail in the final moments. He’d thought he’d won the Phantom Thieves’ trust, but of course he’d never had it. Of course. They had been too cunning for that. No one who ever mattered ever trusted him. But if they hadn’t trusted him, why make him feel welcome? Why make him feel like part of a group? Why make him feel _wanted?_

 

“Dammit!” He threw a punch at the drawer, letting his fist rest on the metal and ignoring the sting of pain in his hand. He’d been made a fool of! Even if he’d won in the end, taken away their precious _Leader_ , he bet they were still laughing at him, hanging out together in that café…

 

“Akechi-kun?”

 

“What?!” He spun around, snarling at whoever _dared_ to interrupt his thoughts.

 

The technician took a surprised step backward. “I, uh, heard a commotion and came to investigate… Are you all right?”

 

Gorou coughed and straightened, brushing his suit down to smooth out any wrinkles. He’d nearly lost it in public. How unseemly. He tilted his head and put on his best smile, the one that always fooled the ignorant masses. “I apologize for any trouble I have caused,” he said, not stating exactly _what_ he had done. “I am looking for the belongings of the one in this cabinet.” He rapped a knuckle against Akira’s drawer, careful not to use the hand that was still hurting. Why had he thought it would be a good idea to punch _metal?_ “I fear something may have been left in evidence that is crucial to the case.”

 

“O-oh. Of course. Please follow me.”

 

As he’d suspected, Gorou’s _real_ phone was found inside a plastic bag, the note stapled to it denoting that it had been submitted as evidence by Prosecutor Niijima Sae. He chuckled and shook his head. That foolish woman had been made a part of the Phantom Thieves’ plan without her knowledge. If she had brought that phone any closer to him at that time, he was sure he would have been drawn into the Palace without even knowing.

 

It didn’t take long to find an officer under Shidou’s thumb to let him take the phone out of evidence, bag discarded in the combustible trash receptacle. He’d worry about reactivating the number on the _correct_ phone later, or even switching phones entirely. It was highly likely that both of them had been bugged, and talking to Shidou over it was now dangerous, but he wasn’t sure if the MetaNav app would even appear on a new phone. Was it linked to him, or the device? It was something to worry about later. For now, he had to enter Shidou’s Palace to obtain information.

 

The detective was unsurprised to find it on high security. Upon questioning the cognitions and Shadows, he discovered that two high-ranking guests had been attacked by intruders and were now missing, and wasn’t _that_ interesting? Of all the Palaces he’d been in, only Shidou’s had _people’s_ Shadows dwelling inside, rather than wandering Mementos. For them to be missing from the ship… Had the Phantom Thieves stolen their Treasure? Or did their defeat mean that they no longer felt this Palace was safe and returned to Mementos with the others? He’d have to confirm it with the Nav, but later.

 

“Shidou!” he yelled to the locked assembly door. “If you want me to eliminate someone, you need to at least give me their _names_.”

 

He didn’t have to wait long for the door to open and the Shadow to step out. “You idiot,” he growled. “Don’t talk about things like that in _public_. You’ll upset the guests.”

 

“They aren’t real, and the ones that are don’t care. Things will go back to normal soon enough.” Gorou still wasn’t sure how memories worked in the Metaverse, since the Shadows remembered his presence and past conversations, those both in the real world and not, yet they never carried over in the other direction in any way. He’d attempted to dig up information about it, but the research he’d found had barely begun to scratch the surface of this strange world. “Am I to be invited in, or shall we go somewhere else?” He doubted the Shadow would invite him into his inner sanctum, though was disappointed when he turned out to be right. Perhaps if he could steal Shidou’s Treasure, instead of those Thieves… No, if he was to do that, it would have to be _after_ the election. Bring him to the highest point, then shoot him in the back, maybe even literally.

 

“Haven’t I already told you to take care of those you think are suspicious?” Shadow Shidou said once they were alone in a hallway. Two private security Shadows took up guarding positions. How easily they could turn on Gorou, should he decide to do something, he noted.

 

“Yes, sir, you have.” He’d have to tread carefully here. “But if you don’t mind me saying, you seem rather distressed. Is there anyone in particular you think is a risk? Anyone I should focus my efforts on first, before addressing the others?”

 

The Shadow stopped to think. “Those damn Phantom Thieves are running about my ship. My security force has been working to eliminate the threat, but they always manage to escape.” So the Phantom Thieves, even without their leader, were still a threat to Shidou, but Gorou himself was not. _Interesting_ … “Other than that, Politician Ooe has backed out of his support. There’s a chance he may use what information he has to blackmail me and seize my rightful throne.”

 

“Is he one of the guests who have disappeared?”

 

“That is correct. Find him and make sure he doesn’t talk, _ever again_.” So Gorou was to eliminate Ooe’s Shadow. Even if killing a Shadow didn’t always kill a person, he was sure Shidou’s men would ensure that Ooe would die from his mental shutdown, the way Okumura had, and it left a bad taste in his mouth. Still, they were criminals in their own right, and sacrifices that had to be made if he wanted his revenge on Shidou.

 

“Who was the other guest that disappeared?”

 

“That one noble. He said he’d get the Imperial Family on my side in exchange for a seat in the Diet, and now he expresses _reservations_ about my ability to lead this country?”

 

 _Have you looked outside?_ Gorou wanted to ask. In Shidou’s mind, there wasn’t a country _left_ to lead. “Ah, yes, I know the one you are talking about. Leave him to me,” he smiled. He could possibly use that man to undermine Shidou’s influence.

 

“Good. Deal with it _quickly_. If anything goes wrong, you know what will happen.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

“Good. Now go.” And with that, Shadow Shidou turned around, flanked by the lesser Shadows, to return to his assembly chamber. How _predictable_.

 

Gorou scoured the ship, looking for the last known place of commotion. If the Thieves were still on board, he’d get his chance to confront them. Perhaps even tease them about Akira’s death before he killed them, one by one. See how their Bonds of Friendship held together _then_.

 

How lucky for them, he thought, when he did not find them on board. Perhaps they’d already gone home for the day, having caused enough of a disturbance. He wondered if they would manage to get that assembly door to open and steal the Treasure. A part of him wanted to see if they could get that far without Joker, but no, he couldn’t have them messing up his plans. Such a shame. Maybe in another life, one where he was more naïve, he’d have joined them. As it was, they were simply another obstacle to remove.

 

He’d deal with them later, however. For now, it was time to hunt down Ooe.

 

* * *

 

 

_Futaba: bad news everybody_

_Futaba: Akechi’s discovered the fake nav_

_Ryuuji: wait what? what does that mean?_

_Makoto: It means that he knows that we know about him._

_Ann: Ohh this is bad_

_Ann: Think we’ll see him in the palace?_

_Yuusuke: It is a likely possibility. We should be on guard at all times._

_Futaba: as if we weren’t already. yo Inari, head ok?_

_Yuusuke: Yes, I am perfectly fine. You should tell that doctor that her relax gels are a wonderful cure for concussions._

_Makoto: I don’t think they work like that outside of the Metaverse…_

_Haru: What should we do to prepare for Akechi-kun, though? Should I bring some grenades?_

_Futaba: holy shit noir_

_Ann: omg Haru-chan_

_Futaba: yes bring grenades. bring a bunch of grenades. Ryuuji get noir some grenades_

_Ryuuji: why me?_

_Futaba: cause you’re in charge of shopping now_

_Ryuuji: that guy’s super scary tho idk how Akira dealt with him_

_Futaba: gotta build up your guts stat_

_Ryuuji: what does that even mean_

_Futaba: n00b_

_Haru: Futaba-chan, be nice._

_Futaba: he makes it too easy_

_Futaba: Mona agrees_

_Makoto: We should proceed with more caution through the Palace from now on. We can’t afford to be caught off-guard by Akechi-kun, especially if it’s after a fight with one of those Cognitive Shadows_

_Futaba: boss battle Queen get with the program_

_Makoto: Regardless, a confrontation with Akechi-kun could be deadly_

_…_

_Ryuuji: man it got quiet in here_

_Ann: we know, Makoto._

_Yuusuke: It may very well come to the point where it will be us or him._

_Haru: I hope it won’t…_

_…_

_Futaba: Mona says it’s late and we should all be going to sleep now_

_Makoto: I agree. We have school in the morning, after all. Good night everyone._

_Ryuuji: ugh school_

_Ann: alright. goodnight Morgana_

_Haru-chan: Good night, everybody. Sleep well._

_Futaba: ggfooooodnohgr anmdino_

_Ryuuji: what the hell was that_

_Futaba: Mona tried to type ‘goodnight Ann-dono.’ nice. you get a personalized message_

_Ryui: somehow I am not jealous_

_Yuusuke: Good night._

_Ryuuji: night guys_

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t until he saw Kurusu’s friend enter the store with a bag of useless crap that Munehisa realized the TV reports might be true. If this kid was taking on shopping duty instead of Kurusu…

 

Damn. He’d liked that kid. Kaoru had too. He didn’t believe for a second it was suicide, but being a Phantom Thief was a profession more likely to make enemies than friends.

 

“Hey, kid,” he was speaking before he realized it, and the blond teen jumped. “I had a deal goin’ on with your friend. If you’d like, I can teach you how to customize some of the stuff you’re gettin’.”

 

“Oh, uh. Thanks?”

 

“No prob. Shop’s open anytime, 10 to 10. Oh, an’ kid?”

 

“…Yeah?”

 

“Try not to get yourself killed too.”

 

A strange look passed over the kid’s face before he gave a strained smile, and Munehisa felt himself smile back before he wrangled it under control. What had that Kurusu done to him? He’d gone soft.

 

* * *

 

 

Sadayo sighed as she went over the grades for her class. Kurusu-kun’s had been in the top ten, before he’d…

 

Had she made the same mistakes as with Takase-kun? No, she couldn’t have…could she?

 

She remembered the school day following the news announcement. She had hoped it was fake, but when Kurusu-kun’s guardian had called her to tell her he’d been in a traffic accident… She knew it was a lie, but one meant to protect his identity as a Phantom Thief, so she accepted it, and announced it to the class the next day. Surprisingly, for all the rumors about him being a delinquent, a fair number of flowers appeared on his desk throughout the days, and she took responsibility for their care; watering them, bringing vases for the bouquets that didn’t have any, replacing old wilted flowers with new ones… Kurusu-kun had certainly made an impression in the short time he’d been in her class.

 

Who would dare kill that innocent bright-eyed child? As his teacher, it would be her responsibility to find out.

 

But where would she even start?

 

* * *

 

 

Yoshida was thankful there was a seat on the train as he entered. He’d given a successful speech tonight, with many people in the crowd asking pointed and informed questions that he’d endeavored to answer. There was no way he’d be able to win against Shidou Masayoshi, but knowing that people supported him pushed him to be a better person; a better politician.

 

And it was all thanks to Kurusu Akira.

 

He’d seen him in the crowd a few times, smiling and nodding – not tuning out, but agreeing with what Yoshida was saying – but after the report of the Phantom Thieves’ leader’s suicide… Nothing. As much as he hadn’t wanted to admit it, the boy was likely dead, life stolen away by the corrupt in power. His speeches had since taken on a different tone. Though many hated him for supporting the Thieves still, many more listened as he spoke about the corruption in politics, and his desire to rid Japan of it. He would make sure that no more innocent young lives were taken as a result of abuse of power. And inwardly, he promised he would find out who had been behind Kurusu-kun’s death, and he would bring them down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have some realistic explanations of game mechanics and stuff. they've gotta work somehow.
> 
> also, causing a mental shutdown does not kill a person, but leaves them in a vegetative state. mental shutdown victims who have died have done so because they were in a dangerous situation when the shutdown occurred (see: Principal Kobayakawa and Wakaba). Okumura and the SIU Directors are unique cases, but it is _so very easy_ to kill someone via gas embolism. it would be simple for Shidou to have an EMT cause a heart attack that way and make it seem like the death was caused by the shutdown (and the Thieves).
> 
>  
> 
> ...several weeks later, I remember that Futaba hadn't switched out Akechi's phone, only bugged it. But I can't really rewrite the scene anymore so oh well, imagine that she switched it out completely with her leet hax. because she is that awesome.
> 
>  
> 
> EVEN THOUGH I KNOW THIS IS AN RPG AND THOSE REQUIRE HUGE PARTIES, RULE OF THREE EXISTS IN WRITING FOR A REASON AUGH IT'S SO HARD TO WRITE A MASS CONVERSATION
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Akechi is not okay~~


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for more gore and blood in this chapter.

 

“Here’s a question many of us have been wondering, Akechi-kun. Why haven’t you apprehended the _rest_ of the Phantom Thieves?”

 

“Ah, well, first of all, I’m unable to actually apprehend anyone, as I am not a member of the police force. I simply hand over the evidence to the proper authorities so they can make the arrests. That said…” He dutifully turned to the camera with the blinking light, focusing his charming smile at the audience through the screen. “I believe that, with the death of their leader, they have gone into hiding. This makes it difficult to track them down, but I swear I will not rest until I see them all brought to justice.”

 

“There are rumors circulating about the Phantom Thieves’ leader’s suicide. Some say it was an inside job. Can you confirm or deny?”

 

His smile slipped a fraction before he covered it back up. Who the _hell_ had leaked info? Shidou was sure to have his head for this. “I would hate to think that the ones who uphold the law would dare to break it. But I would deny those rumors.”

 

“Oh? Care to elaborate?”

 

“Yes. As you know, in order to arrest the Phantom Thieves, I had to get close to them; gain their trust. During that time, I learned a great deal about their personalities. The one I focused the most of my effort on was the leader, and he was, well. I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead…” Trail off, get their attention…

 

“Please tell us!”

 

“If you insist. He was very prideful. I would even describe him as vainglorious. He certainly knew how to manipulate public opinion, and used that skill to sway the hearts of the public in his favor.” The interviewer looked shocked at his turn of phrase, and there was murmuring throughout the live audience, and Gorou fought down the smirk threatening to take over. Let the people wonder if _their_ hearts had been changed to support the Thieves. “The recent drop in popularity was already upsetting to the Phantom Thieves. His capture was simply what drove him over the edge.” He sighed, faking a look of regret, with a touch of sadness that made the girls swoon. “I feel I have failed in that regard. My goal was to bring him to justice so he could face a fair trial. I can only hope that I will succeed with the rest of the Thieves.”

 

“Thank you for your honesty, Akechi-kun.” Off-stage, a cameraman mimed preparing to cut to commercial. “And thank you for joining us at the studio today.”

 

“Thank _you_ for inviting me.”

 

“We hope you will join us again soon!”

 

Another motion from the cameraman and the lack of lights on the cameras signaled the feed had been cut. Almost immediately, his phone rang. Of course it was _him_. “Apologies. Business calls.” They didn’t even care as he walked off-stage. Typical. The execs and hosts didn’t really care about him, they only liked him for the ratings and ad revenue he drew in. That was the nature of the agreement Shidou had with one of the execs, after all; they give Shidou as much coverage as he wants, and Shidou makes sure they get ‘top news stories’ and exclusive rights to interview Gorou.

 

He wanted to tear that contract to bits.

 

While he enjoyed the adoration from his fans, and knew that so many would tune in just to see him, it was all insincere; fake. As soon as he said something they didn’t like, the masses would turn on him, just as they had only a scant few months ago when Phantom Thief popularity was at its highest. But they didn’t matter. They were all fools. He didn’t want their love, the only love he’d ever wanted was from-

 

He pushed the ‘accept call’ button with a bit more force than necessary. “This is Akechi Gorou.” He pulled the phone away to sigh as Shidou’s angry tirade came through. “Yes, sir, I was just as surprised as you, I guarantee. No, sir. Yes, sir, you can rest assure that I will look into it. Yes, _and_ take care of it, of course. Yes. Yes, I _realize_ that…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Dealing with Shidou was a nightmare, and he couldn’t wait to put a gun to his face, watching as that man realized that _he_ was the master manipulator, the one who brought total and complete ruin down upon him. Then again, a bullet to the head was far too kind a death. Quick and painless, a mercy he’d afforded Akira, but one that Shidou Masayoshi _hardly_ deserved. No, he’d draw it out for as long as he could. “Yes, sir, I won’t fail you.” Great. He’d wanted to stake out the Palace again, see if the he could catch the Phantom Thieves in action, but dealing with a leak was far more important. Gorou had to regain control before Shidou decided to use other means to remove it. He had to use it to his advantage before he was forced to eliminate it.

 

Back to Mementos, then…

 

* * *

 

 

“That _bastard_! I’ll kill him!”

 

“Ryuuji-kun, please calm down.” Haru put a hand on his arm, gently pushing it down so that he’d have to either relent or pull away. She was glad when he sat back down, though mumbling in discontent.

 

“Akira’s dead an’ that bastard’s _still_ draggin’ his name through the mud!” he protested.

 

“‘Sway the hearts of the public,’” Yuusuke mused, hand to his chin in deep thought. “Akira did have a way of captivating the hearts of those around him, but to use that turn of phrase…”

 

“He wants to turn the world against us,” Makoto finished the thought. “Make them doubt everything about us. It’s a good move.”

 

“How can you side with _him_?!” Ryuuji whined, and Haru put her hand back on his arm to keep him seated.

 

“I’m not siding with him, just pointing out that it was a good tactical move on his part.”

 

“There _is_ one thing I don’t quite get, though.” All eyes fell to her, and she took a steadying breath. She didn’t think she’d ever forgive Akechi-kun for killing her father, no matter how evil he was, and _definitely_ wouldn’t forgive him for Akira-kun’s death, but it was highly likely that they had both been on Shidou’s orders, and with what the detective had said on TV… “We haven’t gone into hiding at all, and he knows that, right, Futaba-chan?”

 

The girl nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. He’s got a new phone now so I can’t listen in on his convos, but he _def_ knows that we know about him.”

 

“So why would he say that, when he could come and arrest the rest of us at any moment?” Haru continued. There were confused blinks around the table, but both Makoto and Mona-chan were nodding. “He used such a large task force to arrest Akira-kun; it would be easy for him to burst into this place and arrest us all. But he’s not.”

 

“Do you think he’s protecting us?” Ann asked.

 

Morgana scoffed and lashed his tail. “Doubtful. But it _is_ weird. He knows all of our identities, where you guys go to school, and that this place’s our hangout. But he hasn’t even been in this café once since, isn’t that right, Soujirou?”

 

“Oi, Soujirou, Morgana asked you if that detective’s been back in here recently.”

 

“Hm?” The man looked up from drying dishes. “No, he hasn’t. He’s told me this is one of his favorite places, too. Kid really appreciates good coffee.”

 

“I think I could’ve lived without learnin’ that.” Ryuuji made a face.

 

“I don’t think Akechi-kun really wants to kill anyone,” Haru continued her earlier point. “In fact, he looked like he really enjoyed being part of our team. Maybe there’s a way we could get him to join us against Shidou.” The others looked thoughtful and Haru beamed at the fact they were taking her ideas seriously.

 

“I still don’t like it,” Ryuuji grumbled, though it was much quieter than his earlier outburst. “He’s real good at pretendin’ to be our friend, too. What’s stoppin’ him from betrayin’ us a second time if Shidou wants the rest of us dead?” That too was something to take into consideration, and the group went quiet in thought.

 

“There is the possibility that Shidou _does_ want us dead, but Akechi may be stalling for time,” Yuusuke added his thoughts. “We don’t know if he’s revealed our identities. For all Shidou may know, Akechi was telling the truth in his interview.”

 

They all looked to Makoto for a decision, and she bit her lip in thought. She had somehow become the leader in Akira’s absence, most likely because of her strategic prowess, but she felt she was lacking other qualities that made one a leader. Charisma, for one. Akira’d had that in droves, and he had natural talent. “I think it’s too dangerous to approach him without Shidou out of the way,” she eventually ventured, and Haru’s visible disappointment made her wonder if she had made the wrong choice. But no, there were too many risks involved. Maybe Akira would have been bolder, but they had lost him, and Makoto wouldn’t chance such a risk with the rest of the team. “He would be invaluable against Shidou, but we don’t know _why_ he’s obeying that man. We’re missing too much key information to risk confrontation. If we get more, we can revisit this conversation, but until then, we should avoid any sort of interaction.”

 

Haru leaned back against her seat, pouting a bit. Makoto’s decision made sense, but she just had this feeling about Akechi-kun. It couldn’t be explained logically and was difficult to even put into words, but she felt that they could become real friends with him. If only Shidou were out of the way…

 

“Shall we head into the Palace today?” Yuusuke’s voice cut through her musings, and she lifted her head to see the rest of the team nod.

 

“Alright!” Ryuuji yelled, standing up in excitement, and Haru didn’t stop him this time. “Let’s get those last two keys!”

 

* * *

 

 

Gorou pulled at his restraints, but they refused to budge. His hands were cuffed to the table in front of him, palms down, and his legs were held fast around the shins. He pulled again, but it seemed as if the chair itself had been bolted to the floor. He tried to look at his surroundings, but the sole light came from above, casting the walls into shadow. But what he could see looked so terribly familiar. Small. Sterile. Featureless.

 

He stilled as he felt the barrel of a gun press against the back of his head. “Hello, Akechi,” a voice purred, low and sultry and Gorou stiffened. No… He tried to turn his head to look at the speaker, but the gun was drawn around the side of his head to his temple, pushing against it to keep him facing straight ahead.

 

“What are you doing, Kurusu?” The question came out in a growl. Akira was _dead_ ; why couldn’t he stay dead in his dreams, too?

 

The gun traced a path from temple to forehead as the boy walked into his line of sight, hopping up on the table so the barrel could remain pressed against skin. Gorou felt his mouth go dry. Akira was dressed in his street clothes, but the expression he wore was purely Joker’s. That face was so rarely shown outside of the Metaverse, even amongst his group of friends, and yet, how many times had Gorou seen it directed at him, when no one else was watching… It had become such an intimate gesture, one that the detective had come to relish and look forward to. But to see it here, with their roles reversed, felt _wrong_ , dream or no. Gorou wished these damn nightmares would stop; wished that Akira’s ghost would just leave him in peace.

 

“Oh, Akechi, Akechi, Akechi. I just can’t leave you alone. Wanna know why?”

 

“I’ve a feeling you’re going to tell me whether I ask or not.”

 

“Ah, he can learn!” Gorou gave the apparition a withering glare and tried not to jump as the barrel was drawn down his cheek and under his chin. He didn’t resist as Akira forced it up, though he attempted to lean back when the other boy all but crawled towards him, to no avail. “I’m still here because you _want_ me here.”

 

“That’s-”

 

“Shut up.” Akira pushed the gun up roughly, forcing Gorou’s jaw to snap shut. “You want me. You _need_ me. You didn’t have to pull that trigger, you know. You could have walked out, and no one would have known. But no, you just had to please _daddy dearest_.” Gorou swallowed. Akira hadn’t known that; _couldn’t_ have known that. That little detail about his life that he’d fought so hard to keep secret, silencing anyone who might have known, all to gain Shidou’s trust, just so it would make the inevitable betrayal that much sweeter. It had never been for something like _approval_ , not from _that man_. The gun was suddenly pressed into the hollow of his throat, and Gorou choked. This was a dream, right? He couldn’t die for real here…right? _“I am thou.”_ Akira’s voice echoed in his ears, and the gun moved even further down. “You can’t hide your true feelings from me, _Gorou_. You let me crawl my way into your little heart.” The barrel tapped against his chest, right over said organ. “Not so frozen after all, huh?” Akira shifted to sit on the edge of the table between Gorou’s bound hands, feet hooking under the chair. “How much did it hurt? To kill me. Come on, you can tell me,” he prodded in a sing-song voice. “We’re the oooonly ones here.”

 

“It didn’t hurt,” he protested, lip curling into the beginnings of a snarl. “I never lo- Never liked you. You were always going to die. I’d kill you again, a hundred times over if I could! Just leave me the fuck alone!” How dare this…this _thing_ try to get into Gorou’s head! If he could only move-

 

Suddenly, the point of view changed, and Gorou was now the one holding the gun, silencer on the barrel, standing in front of the table with Akira bound to it. He finally recognized the room; it was Sae’s secret interrogation room. But the real Akira had been in his school uniform, and there had been no chains…

 

“If you want to kill me, do it,” Akira (not real, _not real_ ) grinned at him. “Now’s your chance. ‘A hundred times over,’ right? Will you do it? Will you shoot your own hear-”

 

The sound of a gunshot surprised both of them, and Akira looked down with amusement at the hole in his chest. “Huh. You really did it. Amazing.” The boy looked up at him and smiled, and oh, that was such a very _Akira_ look, Gorou stepped back. _Don’t smile at me like that. Don’t. I just_ shot _you._ “Gorou-”

 

Gorou screamed and fired off several more rounds. “Shut up, shut up, _shut up!_ ” he yelled, finger pressing down on the trigger even after it began to click empty. “ _Go away!_ ”

 

He didn’t know how long he stood there for, but the lack of taunting drew his attention back to the boy in the chair. He was slumped against the back, head bowed over, and covered in blood. Several holes peppered his body, through which Gorou could see the chair and the room behind ( _that’s not how bullets worked_ ), and blood was dripping, pooling on the ground, far too much for a normal human body, and slowly making its way across the tile towards him. He took a deep breath and stepped forward to check the body, the small splash of his shoes moving through blood sounding not unlike walking through puddles of rainwater, and he fought down the nausea. Gingerly, he prodded the head of the body with the silencer, but there were no sounds; no further taunts. It was dead silent and Gorou suddenly wished to hear Akira’s voice again. It was far preferable to the sound of dripping blood, no matter how infuriating and close the words cut. Using the barrel, he tipped the chin up, wondering if this dream version of Akira would have the same expression the real one had.

 

He stumbled back at the sight, hand flying to his mouth as he tried not to retch. The face wasn’t Akira’s at all, but _Gorou’s own_ , and the mouth was twisted into a maniacal grin. But the eyes. Oh, the eyes.

 

_The eyes weren’t there._

 

Empty, bleeding, with something writhing in the depths that was wrong wrong _wrong-_

 

Gorou scrambled back, but the floor was slick with blood, making traction hard. He slipped, and no, this was _far_ too much blood for any one person, filling the room at a rapid pace like a water tank. He pulled his head up, gasping for breath, but the blood was cloying, pulling him under as if it were a million hands. He struggled and kicked and fought but still it dragged him down down down filling his ears with a horrible ringing sound…

 

His eyes snapped open to the familiar sight of his apartment ceiling, and he blinked several times. When had he fallen on the floor? The ringing persisted, and it took a few moments for Gorou to realize it was his phone. Who the hell was calling at this hour? The sun wasn’t even up!

 

It took him a few tries to extract himself from the tangled sheets, and he managed to answer the call just before it went to voicemail. “Akechi Gorou.”

 

“What the _hell_ are you doing, brat?”

 

“Shidou-san?” Ugh, it was too early for this shit. His own empty face was still haunting him, along with that literal hole in Akira’s heart… He swore he could still taste blood, too. “Why are you calling me at…” He looked over at his clock, the soft green light permeating the grey of pre-dawn. “…4:30 in the morning?” Maybe he shouldn’t have picked up.

 

“Half of my technology department just _quit_ on me.” Gorou pulled the phone away from his face so he could yawn, and missed the next few sentences. He doubted they were important anyway. Probably Shidou ranting about how he wanted Gorou to eliminate them. There were only three days to the election, however. Soon, in less than a week, he’d have his revenge. If he could stall until then… “And why is Ooe still walking around?!”

 

“These things sometimes take time to go into effect,” he replied. It was true, at least. Sometimes it would take several days for the disappearance of one’s Shadow to affect the living person. Perhaps it had to do with the strength of the Shadow? He hadn’t exactly kept track, and all Shadows were so very weak compared to him. It looked like he couldn’t put off Ooe’s assassination, however, and he wondered how he should do it. Cause a shutdown to both him and his chauffeur while on the road? Berserk a political dissident? Or just eliminate the Shadow and let Shidou clean up the mess? Gorou yawned again. The last one would take the least amount of effort, and would put the onus on Shidou. Perhaps he’d do that.

 

“Then deal with the other issue. The election is this weekend, and everything must go _perfectly. Or else_.”

 

“Yes, sir, I understand. Have a good day.” He hung up before Shidou could demand anything else of him. Soon. Soon he would be free of that man. Soon, the world would see just how poor an excuse of a human being Shidou Masayoshi was. And Great Detective Akechi Gorou would be the hero who uncovered his crimes and put him away. Soon, the world would love him, as it should.

 

He glanced at his reflection in the window and tried not to shudder at the empty eyes that stared back.

 

* * *

 

 

Soujirou pulled the blankets higher over Futaba and nudged the space heater closer to the bed. Even though her ‘rig’ as she called it was always on and producing enough heat to be a space heater on its own, he didn’t want to chance her getting a cold. The cat was sleeping soundly curled up in her arms, and he gave it a small scratch behind the ear. Then, turning off the light, he made his way back downstairs. One last look up showed the glow-in-the-dark stars shining bright on the rafters, giving off just enough light to see by. He shook his head. Get sentimental later, he told himself. It was time to lock up now.

 

After Akira’s death, Futaba had taken to sleeping in the attic on the boy’s bed. Soujirou couldn’t fault her for that; they all had their own way of grieving. Before he knew it, she had moved her computer rig upstairs into the corner near the plant and that weird statue. He’d been worried that the boy’s death would have affected Futaba the same way Wakaba’s death had, but was glad when, instead of holing herself up again, she’d continued hanging out with her friends and going outside with them. Even if those days were spent going into someone’s heart, rather than the mall.

 

He sighed as the key clicked in the lock. He wished he could support those mourning children with more than curry and coffee (and juice for Ryuuji). It wasn’t hard to notice the bags under their eyes, the way they dragged their feet, the bruises they tried to hide under their clothes. They were out there, every day, risking their lives trying to stop a twisted man from gaining control of the country, and all he could do was sit in his little café and worry and pray that they wouldn’t follow Akira.

 

That boy deserved the world, and all he got was a bullet for it. Soujirou thought back to the first time the kid had walked into his shop. He hadn’t been able to see past the boy’s criminal record, only seeing a delinquent that attacked people without provocation. But after spending so much time with him, seeing the gentle smile as Soujirou showed him how to brew and cook, the interested stare as Soujirou had taught him everything he’d known… When that boy first arrived, he had been _scared_ , and it had taken Soujirou a while to notice, but when he did, he just couldn’t ignore the signs, not like he had with Wakaba. The way he refused to look people in the face, the flinches at any raised voice, and the way he would make himself small, take up as little room as possible and always move out of someone’s way before they could even brush him were all signs that something was very wrong. After realizing, Soujirou had devoted his time to making sure Akira was comfortable in his tiny space, and that had helped to draw the boy out of his shell just as much as making new friends had. And Soujirou had grown fond of him. And when he’d drawn Futaba out of her room, the two had been practically inseparable. Soujirou had worried that Akira would take advantage of Futaba, as teenage boys were wont to do, but when he’d confronted his foster daughter about it, she’d called him silly and explained that they were “most def siblings, separated at birth, somehow.” And wouldn’t he pleeeeaaaase adopt Akira so he’d be her big brother legally?

 

Not for the first time, Soujirou had considered it. It was obvious the kid’s parents didn’t care for him, dropping him off at a literal stranger’s place and not even calling to check in on him. If there was ever a heart to be changed, it would be theirs. He wondered if they had even come to collect the body yet, or if Akira was still sitting in some sterile morgue. Perhaps he should give the station a call tomorrow; being his temporary guardian, surely he would have some authority in case the blood relatives couldn’t be reached, right?

 

He wondered if that detective boy would be there. He hadn’t known what to think when Makoto had told him that kid had been the one to kill his charge. When Akechi had been at the café – before joining the kids’ group – he’d looked so worn and tired, and just a little bit scared. Not unlike Wakaba. Then, when he finally had begun to hang out with the others, a bit of that weariness seemed to have lifted, and it had been a toss-up on whether the smile would be the fake one he wore on the TV interviews or something a little bit more real.

 

Soujirou wondered back to the conversation in the café earlier; had Akechi been pressured into killing Akira after all? He wished he had reached out to the boy, rather than simply treat him like any other customer. Maybe this tragedy could have been avoided had he been more fatherly.

 

* * *

 

 

“The phone,” Akira ground out between desperate gasps for breath. “Wait. Wait, Sae, the phone! _The phone!_ ”

 

Those had been the last words Niijima Sae had heard from Kurusu Akira. She had considered asking Akechi-kun if he’d known what the Phantom Thief had meant, or if he could get an answer out of him, but she had figured it had simply been the truth serum taking its toll on him. Nothing the detective need be concerned with.

 

When his suicide had been announced, she had been shocked. The kid had been unstable in his last moments, but not to the point of _suicide_. And that a guard was killed, too… How many times had Akira-kun insisted the Phantom Thieves didn’t kill?

 

That night, Makoto had returned home so late, Sae had been about to call the police, and had handed her a police notebook.

 

A very distinct police notebook that caused Sae’s throat to close. She’d kept it locked away in a safe in her closet, one that she hadn’t told Makoto the combination to. And then her sister had started talking. If Sae hadn’t just come back from Akira’s confession, she would have thought the stress of school had finally gotten to Makoto. Too many details lined up with the boy’s confession.

 

But where Akira’s story ended, Makoto’s continued. She spoke about the plan to trap the traitor, the true culprit of the various incidents. She talked about how her friends had set up a plan, all revolving around their leader convincing Sae, freed from her distorted desires, to show a very specific phone to one Akechi Gorou. Sae didn’t know how Makoto knew the plan had failed, but all the girl wanted was answers as to _why_ it did. So she told her.

 

There was very little that made Makoto cry anymore, Sae realized. Ever since their father’s death, the both of them had hardened their hearts and put on a brave face to the world. And as a woman in a male-dominated field, Sae couldn’t afford to let her emotions get the better of her. But Makoto…

 

Makoto hadn’t cried in years. And now, here, with Sae telling her how Akira had succumbed to illegal administration of drugs, mere moments before Akechi-kun had walked up with his pleasant smile hiding murderous intent, she cried. She tried to hold back her tears, but Sae moved forward, wrapping her in a hug (when was the last time she had hugged her own sister?), and there was no stopping the sobs or cries then. One of her best friends, a boy who had saved her life and risked everything to help someone who, at the time, had been an enemy, had just died. Had been murdered. Much like their own father. This, if anything, was a time to cry.

 

Sae swore, then, that she would bring Akechi Gorou to justice. It would be difficult to dig up the evidence, especially if she wanted to keep him in the dark, but she would make sure he paid for his crimes, no matter what.

 

“Hey.” She guided Makoto over to the table, sitting down next to her, rather than across, as they usually did. There was something she had to know; something that was missing from both Akira-kun’s and her sister’s stories. “Tell me about him.”

 

Makoto did.

 

* * *

 

 

Hifumi’s pawn clacked against the board in the quiet of the church. She paused before making the next move, trying to imagine how Akira-kun would have played. She had looked forward to their weekly matches. The boy was far from being able to match up against a dan player, but he was firmly in the beginner category. If he’d decided to go pro, Hifumi was sure she’d see him at games eventually.

 

She placed a piece down. _The dread Black Dragon King advances upon the queen’s Silver General. They stare each other down, gauging the other’s strength._ It was a good move. If she captured the piece, it would allow the enemy to break through her defense. But if she held fast, she’d lose her piece. _The Gold General moves into position. The two share a meaningful look and nod to each other._ If her Silver was captured, she’d capture the rook in turn. Would Akira-kun sacrifice his rook?

 

…Would he sacrifice a piece to save the rest of the board?

 

No, that wasn’t quite right. Akira was the king piece. Capture him, and the game is over. Perhaps the reported suicide was his resignation of the game instead. Better to go out with dignity than to keep playing and lose more pieces.

 

But to so meaninglessly take a life during his resignation? No, that was odd. He was a _kaitou. Kaitou_ had to stick to specific roles, just as shogi pieces had their defined roles. A phantom thief that killed wouldn’t be a _kaitou_ anymore, they’d simply be a _touzoku._ There was no downgrading a piece, only promotion.

 

Clack. _The Gold General avenges his friend by taking down the dread Black Dragon King. He gives a cry to rally the troops against the Dark King. For the Queen!_

 

Something was going on behind the scenes. The opponent’s king was still playing a game, she was sure. But whether Akira had been the king or simply a high-ranking piece needed to be seen. A game without a king… Was that even possible?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bs's way through Haru's personality 'cause she never actually did any confidant linking with her* rip me
> 
> lots of symbolism here ohohoho
> 
> and Sae's scene is a little bit non-linear time-wise
> 
>  
> 
> these chapters sure are getting longer huh


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW SORRY FOR THE WAIT GUYS 
> 
> real life kicked in this past weekend. I'm trying to get one chapter up per weekend, but they're just getting longer and longer...
> 
>  
> 
> Warning for more blood, gore, and disturbing imagery in this chapter

 

“My election is the result of every citizen’s aid. Your support warms my heart!” Shidou looked out over the sea of reporters, every camera broadcasting live, flash-bulbs near-blinding him. “That is why I humbly accept this position. I will endeavor to be the man the people want me to be, and I will make this country the greatest in the world!” He bowed deeply, every camera flashing so much the press area became nothing but one big bright light. Shidou was glad he was facing the floor. Why did those stupid reporters have to have flash cameras? Was the provided lighting not enough? Maybe he’d make a law about not inconveniencing politicians this way; it was practically _assault_.

 

Eventually, he walked off-stage with his attendants. Pictures of him bowing were bound to make front page news. Humans were such _idiots_. All he had to do was play the ‘humble servant’ part and they’d do anything he asked.

 

There were few left in the way of his ascension now. There would have been even fewer if that boy had done his job as Shidou had ordered, but no matter. All who stood against him would be removed soon enough. Soon, the people would hail him as they would a god. He’d rebuild this country from the ashes, with only the worthy left to scream his name. This country would be _his_.

 

And then, the world.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Fuck!_ ”

 

That summed up everyone’s feelings nicely.

 

“We failed to change his heart in time…”

 

“He’s going to destroy this country…”

 

Ryuuji wanted to break something, but a warning look from Ann cowed him. Right. No destroying any of Master’s property.

 

“We can’t give up, guys!” Morgana shouted from the table. “We can still stop him before he does any lasting damage! We can’t leave his heart unchanged, no matter what!”

 

The group nodded. This much was true. Even if their original deadline had been the day of the election, things would turn out okay if only they could make him have a change of heart. There was only one more key necessary to unlock the door to Shidou’s treasure. It might take them another week, but surely the man couldn’t do too much harm in that period of time, could he?

 

The fact they hadn’t seen Akechi at all in the Palace made them wary, too. The detective _had_ to know what they were doing, right? Maybe he didn’t mind them traipsing through Shidou’s heart? Or perhaps he didn’t know Shidou even _had_ a Palace. No, that didn’t make any sense. He worked for the man; how could he not know he was corrupt? And if he was behind the shutdowns and breakdowns, why, then did he not do the same to the man controlling him? There were too many questions they didn’t have the answers to, but if current trends held, Akechi wouldn’t impede their progress.

 

At least, they hoped so.

 

“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” Makoto announced. “Let’s meet here bright and early tomorrow morning so we can give it all we’ve got. The longer we stay in the Palace, the easier it’ll be to find the Cleaner.”

 

“And get that last letter!” Ryuuji couldn’t _wait_. Well, no, he could. It was late and he needed a ton of sleep if he was to function in the morning.

 

“Might you have a plan?”

 

Makoto nodded. “If we can’t find where the Cleaner is, then we cause a disturbance; one he can’t ignore.”

 

“But what if that alerts Akechi-kun to our position?”

 

Makoto closed her eyes. She still wanted to avoid confrontation with Crow, but they didn’t have much choice anymore. The longer Shidou remained in power, the more dangerous he would become. “We’re out of options. We _need_ to take Shidou down. If we run across Akechi-kun, we’ll have to either sway him to our side, or at least convince him to let us go.” There were nods of agreement from the group. “All right. Let’s go home and get some sleep.”

 

* * *

 

 

There was a weight on him.

 

Not a crushing, suffocating weight, but one that was warm. Comfortable. Soft. He craned his head to look outside, but it was pitch-black. The only light in the room was a soft green glow coming from behind him.

 

The weight shifted, pulling itself off him to rise above. He spotted a familiar head of untidy black hair before grey eyes lifted to meet his.

 

Something wasn’t right…

 

“Hello, Gorou.” Before he could respond, lips met his own, and he drunk the feeling in. It wasn’t fair. He’d searched for love all his life, and Akira so readily gave it away to everyone, practically overflowing. He was like a fountain in the desert, everyone taking their share, when it should have been _his alone_. How long had he gone without this; it wasn’t fair that those who had love from other sources would receive from Akira, too.

 

He flipped them over, kissing hungrily and pulling Akira’s arms up above his head, pinning the wrists down with a hand. And that smirk. Oh, that smirk. When not in Joker’s attire, that smirk was reserved for him alone. How he cherished it. How many times had he dreamt of this? Kissing, touching Akira’s skin, watching him writhe beneath him, wanton…

 

…He was forgetting something important…

 

A hand cupped his face (hadn’t he been holding them down?) and Akira lifted up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Miss me?”

 

Yes, yes, of course he did. Akira was _his_ , how dare he go somewhere he couldn’t follow.

 

…Where _did_ Akira go, that Gorou would miss him so? Hadn’t he always been here?

 

The boy just laughed, and suddenly Gorou was on his back, Akira sitting on top of him. “Aaall yours,” he purred, and laughed again. What was so funny…?

 

Akira drew a hand down his own chest, sensual and teasing. Gorou struggled. He wanted to _touch_. Why couldn’t he move his arms…?

 

Then, fingernails dug into skin, ripping, tearing, and Gorou cried out in shock. What-? “Akira! Stop! Wait-!”

 

The boy just continued to laugh as he peeled back skin, revealing a hole where his heart should have been, blood bubbling and oozing out of the gaping wound, dripping down and soaking into Gorou’s skin. He tried to get away, but was held fast by Akira’s weight. No one could be this heavy, could they…?

 

“Don’t you remember, dear Gorou?” The voice was sickly-sweet, carrying an undertone of malice. It sounded so _wrong_ coming from Akira. Stop, stop stop… “How many times will you kill me, I wonder?” He placed a hand, slick with blood, on Gorou’s chest, running it down, down…

 

“No! Akira, stop!”

 

Nails dug into skin and Gorou gasped in pain. “Akira, Akira. You know you never once called me by that name. Never used it, even when you shot me.” He fought back tears of pain; it felt as if Akira was trying to reach _his_ heart, too. “You desired my life, yet stole it away instead of keeping it safe, all for you.”

 

“You _had_ to die,” he gasped out, though the excuse had begun to ring hollow as of late. Had he really needed to kill him to prove his triumph? The Thieves had planned for him to kill a cognition. Surely that would have worked just as well against Shidou? A hand flew to Akira’s wrist, trying to pull him out and away from his chest.

 

…Would Shidou have even cared? Would the man have even known different, had Gorou grabbed any druggie, yakuza, or petty thief off the street to die in Akira’s place?

 

“Did I? Or is that something you just tell yourself at night when you’re dreaming of us like this? You should stop, you know.” The fingers dug deeper, causing him to cry out. “Hurting me only hurts you.”

 

“ _You’re_ the one with a hand in my chest!”

 

“Oh, that? I’m just trying to see if you still have a heart. Aren’t you curious to know?”

 

“No!” He wasn’t! But that wasn’t stopping the phantom. Gorou wondered how a nightmare could cause such pain. Surely he’d wake up soon before he died…right?

 

He amended his thought moments later as Akira pulled the skin away from his body as easily as one would pull cloth from skin, lungs and heart pulsing beneath his ribcage in a textbook image of an anatomy diagram. The only reason he _wasn’t_ dead was _because_ it was a nightmare.

 

“Oh, look. You have one after all.” The boy sounded almost _disappointed_ at the fact.

 

“Stop this!” he cried out again, struggling to escape. “Leave me alone! Let me wake up!”

 

Akira chuckled, patting Gorou’s cheek with a hand, smearing blood over it. Fingers wiggled through gaps in the ribs, pressing into and pulling at his still-beating heart. “Awake, asleep, alive, dead, it makes no difference, does it? I’ll be with you always, just as you wanted. Right _here_.” Gorou gasped again as the hand sunk into the organ, as if it was being absorbed. Blood from his own heart began to creep up Akira’s arm, forming sharp angular rivulets as it flowed upwards. Akira tilted his head back and _laughed_ , and it sounded so wrong, so very wrong coming from him. That wasn’t Joker’s usual laugh; that was the laugh of a madman. As the blood continued to crawl upward and over Akira’s body, his form flickered, pale flesh giving way to a dazzling pattern of black and white for a moment.

 

He knew that form. “You-!”

 

Akira (not Akira!) whipped his head back, grinning at Gorou with a maniacal expression, eyes no longer the deep grey he’d come to know, but the bright yellow of a Shadow. His arm had sunk into Gorou’s heart up to the elbow now. “You want me, so I am here. You need me, so I am here. You desire me, so I fulfill all your darkest desires. Oh, Gorou…” A thumb brushed against the detective’s lips, tender and sweet in contrast to the pain he was causing. “I. Am. _Thou_.”

 

A sudden twist had him screaming in pain, arching, struggling against the restraints that suddenly bound him, clawing to get free…

 

His head hit the floor with a ‘thunk’ as he fell out of his bed, blankets tangled around his legs and arm. He pushed at them with his free hand, escaping into the bathroom to relieve his stomach of their contents (though there wasn’t much – he hadn’t been eating well these past few days).

 

A sob escaped him as he rested his head on the rim of the bowl. He’d made a mistake. A horrible, terrible mistake that could never be undone, and now he was paying the price for his sins.

 

He imagined a comforting hand on his back, moving in slow circles, and wished from the bottom of his wretched heart that it were real.

 

When he spoke, it was but a hoarse whisper. “Take me, Loki.”

 

Joker’s laugh echoed back. “I’m all yours.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Is it just me, or does the Palace look a little…different?”

 

It was still a luxury cruiser, thankfully, else they wouldn’t have been able to get in, and the entrance still looked like the National Diet, so it was definitely the same location, but…

 

“So this is how he views the place after becoming Prime Minister,” Morgana spoke, voice quiet. He’d never experienced a Palace changing its form before, but with such a dramatic change in the real world, it made sense that the cognition would change. “It’s almost…”

 

“Like a real palace,” Haru finished.

 

Instead of the old stonework, the building was now gold-plated, almost gaudily-so. It reminded Ann of Kamoshida’s and Madarame’s Palaces, and the thought sickened her. From the familiar domed roof rose an impossibly-high tower, taller than even the skyscrapers they passed by. It, too, was plated in bright gold, and there seemed to be something of an observational deck at the very top. Was that what Shidou thought he was now? Untouchable, viewing the masses from on high? _Disgusting._

 

“ _Please_ don’t tell me the Treasure’s up there now…” she groaned and cast a glance at Morgana, almost afraid that her fears would be confirmed.

 

The cat shook his head. “We’re too far away to tell if it moved or not. We’ll have to go back to the main hall and see.”

 

The inside hadn’t changed, thankfully. The entrance still had those grand staircases, speakers still blaring Shidou’s speeches, and the same Shadows still patrolled their familiar routes. The doors to the assembly hall were _more_ ornate now, somehow, and the five slots for the letters of recommendation were still embedded into them. But…

 

Morgana sighed. “We still need one more letter, but… The Treasure feels so far away, now. I think this is the entrance to that tower, but you were right, Panther. It’s at the very top. We still have a ways to go.” Exasperated groans sounded from behind him, and he spun to face them. “Stop complaining! That just means we have to try even harder! We’ve still got one letter to go, but that’ll at _least_ get us to the halfway point!”

 

“We’ve _been_ trying, you stupid-”

 

“Skull!” His mouth snapped shut at Ann’s shout. They’d been making their way slowly (too slowly) through Shidou’s Palace for an entire _month_ now, and hadn’t managed to change his heart before voting day. Tension was high and tempers were running short with all of them, but they couldn’t lose their cool, not here, not now. “That was uncalled for, too, Mona.” He withered under her glare, mumbling an apology. In-fighting had to be kept to a minimum, if they were to succeed. _And survive,_ she tried not to think.

 

Thankfully, Yuusuke broke the tense silence. Sometimes his inability to read the atmosphere was a blessing. “We still require that last letter, but we have no clues as to where to start looking for this Cleaner. What is the plan?”

 

Ann, along with the others, looked to Makoto. She was the smartest one of them all, even including Akira, and always had the best ideas. “Well… We should ask around for information. Maybe some of these people have seen where he’s gone?”

 

“Bullshit!” Ryuuji’s outburst, combined with a loud ‘bang!’ had them all jumping. The boy currently had his boot placed firmly on the ornate door, and as they watched, drew it back for another well-placed kick. “I say we just break these fuckin’ doors down!”

 

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Futaba asked, adjusting her goggles. Not for the first time, Ann wondered how she saw the world through them.

 

“Yeah.” Another kick. “We break the doors down, we don’t need a stupid letter. We don’t break ‘em down, that Cleaner guy comes to _us_ , wonderin’ what all that racket is.”

 

Huh. Not a bad plan, especially coming from Ryuuji. He was far from book-smart, and didn’t know how to handle himself around people, but every once in a while, there would be a bout of tactical genius that rivalled Akira’s.

 

Morgana’s thoughtful hum drew their attention. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” he mused.

 

Ryuuji rounded on him. “You got a better idea, furball?”

 

“Who’re you calling ‘furball’?!”

 

“Hey!” Ann stepped between them. What was _with_ these two today? “The only one we’re here to fight today is the Cleaner, okay?” The two of them cast ashamed looks at the ground at her admonishment. _Good_. “Now Mona, Ryuuji’s idea makes sense, but why don’t you think it’s a good idea?” She saw Haru come up beside her out of the corner of her eye. Good. She could use another peacemaker.

 

“Well… I mean… What if he damages the lock?”

 

“You callin’ me careless-” The retort was bit off, likely do to Haru’s own glare. You did _not_ want to get on that girl’s bad side.

 

“I’m just _saying_ ,” Morgana continued, “That if _any_ of us make a mistake and break the lock in the wrong way, we could be locked out forever.”

 

The group fell into silence as they considered that possibility. Unable to proceed, even if they managed to get the final key? Unacceptable. They couldn’t risk it. “Then… What should we do?”

 

While Makoto closed her eyes in thought, Ann glanced around the Main Hall. Only a handful of cognitions had glanced up at Ryuuji’s outburst, and they were now quickly returning to their inane conversations. They cared nothing for the world around them, so long as it didn’t inconvenience them. Or so Shidou thought. Makoto had begun talking again, laying out a search pattern, but Ann only half-heard her; she’d been struck by a terrible idea. “We attack them.”

 

The conversation trailed off as attention was drawn to her. “Pardon?” Yuusuke asked.

 

“We attack them,” Ann repeated, motioning to the cognitions crowding the hall.

 

“That’s-!”

 

“They’re _people!_ ” Futaba protested, recoiling. Ann sympathized; the idea was abhorrent to her, too, but they were too low on options and time.

 

“They’re not, though. Not really.” And now Morgana was voicing the reasoning behind Ann’s idea. “They might look like real people, but they’re just cognitions. They’re not even Shadows. Nothing we do to them will affect the people they’re based on. But…” His ear flicked as he drew a paw to his mouth in thought. “We don’t know what effect damaging cognitive beings will have on the Palace owner.”

 

“Why can’t we just attack the walls or somethin’?” Ryuuji pleaded, and Ann wanted to agree with him, would rather attack inanimate objects than those that resembled living human beings, even if they both were equally as fake.

 

“Look at them!” She threw her hand out to the crowd in emphasis. Maybe _one_ looked over at her shout, but their attention was quickly lost. “They don’t _care_ what we do! None of them are looking at us now, when Skull was trying to break down the door just moments ago! How many boss battles-” she saw Futaba nod at her word choice “-have we had in public areas where the _most_ we got was a dry quip from the Cleaner before he sicced his Shadow cronies on us? I like the idea just as much as you guys, but we don’t have _time_ to look in _every room_ on this ship, let alone go through those rat mazes again!” Makoto looked embarrassed at the last bit, but Ann couldn’t blame her; if there _was_ time, it would have been a better idea to take their time looking and avoid unnecessary battles. As it was, their clock had run over; they needed to finish things as fast as possible. “We don’t… _really_ have to hurt them. Just scare them a bit.” Get them screaming. Something to draw the Cleaner’s attention.

 

The group mulled over her proposal in silence, and Ann wondered if it would be shot down. Morgana seemed to be on her side, at least, but it had to be a unanimous decision. A part of her hoped that someone would come up with something better, so they wouldn’t have to hurt people, no matter how fake.

 

“If all we have to do is frighten them,” Yuusuke began, sounding a little uncertain, “then let us commence. Time is of the essence.”

 

“It seems as if we don’t really have a choice,” Makoto sighed, resigned. She stepped up to stand next to Ann. “I don’t like it, but…”

 

“I don’t either,” Ann whispered back, as if saying that would somehow make them feel better about what they were about to do. It didn’t.

 

Even though it was supposed to be unanimous, it seemed as if Queen’s vote was the deciding factor as the rest of the Phantom Thieves stepped up to join them. “We don’t want to cause too much damage,” Morgana warned, settling into a fighting stance.

 

Futaba summoned her Persona, the grinning orb drawing her in in preparation for battle. “I’ll keep an eye out for any incoming Shadows!” They wouldn’t need her buffs, not when they’d be going after...normal people.

 

“Let’s get this over with. Seiten Taisei!” A Mazio was launched over the heads of the crowd that went ignored until the detonations scorched the ceiling and exploded light fixtures. The crowd hushed, then, before turning their attention to the Thieves and starting up a furious whisper. “Seriously?!”

 

“Looks like just getting their attention isn’t enough. Zorro!” Typhoon-force winds ripped through the crowd, who began to scream as they realized they were being attacked.

 

Ann winced at the screams, but this was their goal; they had to do this, if only to get that Cleaner to appear. “Hecate!” Fire cut blazing paths through the crowd, fanned by Zorro’s wind and cutting off escape routes. They had to keep panic levels up while doing as little damage as possible.

 

She wasn’t prepared for when a stray flame engulfed a cognition, turning them to ash. She screamed, falling back, vaguely aware of the others calling her name. She hadn’t meant to _kill_ anyone!

 

“Milady!” Haru summoned her Persona at Ann’s falter, ready to cover her, but there was nothing to protect her _from_. This was so very different from any fight they had been in. Shadows would plead for mercy and Akira would let them go after extorting them for money or rare items, but the Shadows at least fought in the beginning. This…

 

This was slaughter.

 

Yuusuke’s ice skills froze several in place, and Makoto, though she kept hers to the edges and ceiling as much as possible, couldn’t control the size of the explosions, shattering several of the frozen cognitions and evaporating even more into black smoke.

 

And the screaming. Oh, the screaming.

 

Ann raised her arm, shaking, preparing another Maragi. They weren’t real, but that didn’t stop this from feeling any less so. She felt like a monster.

 

Futaba had barely finished shouting a warning before another voice rang out. “That’s enough, you brats!”

 

The Thieves quickly fell back to the doors, watching as the Cleaner made his way through the cognitive crowd, cracking his joints and flanked by henchmen who looked like they just couldn’t wait to do some damage.

 

“Y’all think you can just do whatever ya want, huh? Makin’ a mess of this place. Boss ain’t gonna be happy ‘bout this, no way.”

 

“We wouldn’t’ve done this if you’d just made yourself easy to find!” Ryuuji shot back and very admirably did not flinch under the furious glare he received in response.

 

“Well I _might’ve_ let’cha have yer fun in this place if only you’d behave, but brats like you need ta be taught _manners_.” The Cleaner cracked his neck as his cronies cackled in glee, excited for a good fight. Ann tensed, foot sliding back as she, too, prepared to fight, but the next voice that spoke caught them all off-guard.

 

“No need to trouble yourself, Cleaner-san. Please allow _me_ to take care of them.”

 

* * *

 

 

It hadn’t been difficult to find them after the screaming started, though he was surprised the Phantom Thieves would sink to such an act, cognitions or not. When the Cleaner had approached them, all attention had been on the yakuza, allowing Akechi to sneak up without being spotted by Sakura’s ward.

 

“No need to trouble yourself, Cleaner-san. Please allow _me_ to take care of them.” He spoke smoothly, only allowing himself a small smirk at the sadistic glee he felt at watching them all jump in surprise.

 

_“Akechi?!”_

 

“You seem surprised to see me. Did you not expect me to follow you here?” Their silence was his answer. Really. He had expected more of them. Had they gotten cocky in his absence? For shame. Akira wasn’t even here to lead them. How dare they get all high and mighty without their leader.

 

He felt the pressure of a hand running up his back to rest on his neck. “Are you going to kill them?” Joker asked. “I’m pretty lonely. If you kill them, maybe I’ll have some friends. One big party in your head. Maybe it’ll fill that big empty void in your heart.” A chuckle. “Then again, maybe not.”

 

“Just _what_ are you planning to do here anyway?” Gorou asked the group, ignoring Joker’s question. It was obvious from the non-reaction of the Thieves that they couldn’t see the boy. It wasn’t really him anyways, just Loki trying to elicit a response. _Are you so sure about that?_

 

“Why’d you do it, man?” The question from Skull caught him off-guard. He’d expected the hot-headed boy to be enraged that he’d taken their best friend away.

 

“Do what?” Gorou asked, though he was sure he knew what Skull was referring to. He didn’t know if he could answer that; he wasn’t sure of the reason anymore.

 

“We know you were not the true mastermind behind Joker’s death.” Gorou’s eyes landed on Fox, but he couldn’t read his expression; that damn mask covered everything. He _hated_ masks. He should be the only one wearing one! “If we steal Shidou Masayoshi’s Treasure, he will confess to his crimes. You will be free from his influence. You won’t-”

 

Whatever Fox had to say was cut off by a laugh bubbling from Gorou’s mouth. He couldn’t stop it. “Free? From him? You really think I am that man’s _prisoner_?”

 

“Aren’t you?” Joker was behind him again, a hand resting possessively on Gorou’s stomach. “Or are you _my_ prisoner? Or both?”

 

He pulled out of the embrace, beginning to stalk around the group so as to hide the movement. “Everything I’ve done has been carefully calculated, so I can utterly _destroy_ him. I won’t have idiots like you ruining all my work just for some sense of justice.”

 

“Damn, kid.” Hm. He’d forgotten the Cleaner was there. Gorou shot him a glare and the yakuza raised a hand in peace. “Hey, you handle this like ya said and we got no beef. Don’t really care much what ya do after long as I get paid.” Criminal scum. Gorou would destroy them too for their crimes, but now was hardly the time.

 

“But, if you want to stop Shidou, isn’t that the same goal as us? Why don’t you help us?”

 

Ah, Noir. Ever the diplomat. “You’re not very good listeners, are you? You don’t understand _anything_. Stopping him is hardly enough. Making him confess is scarcely punishment for all he’s done.”

 

“What do you-? No…” Mona gasped. “You don’t mean… _You’re_ the one that’s behind the psychotic breakdowns?!”

 

Alarm spread through the Thieves; it seemed they hadn’t even suspected his true power. “My mom-” Oracle choked out at the same time as Noir cried out for her father. Both of those had been mental shutdowns rather than the psychotic breaks. At least they were able to make _that_ leap of logic.

 

Gorou tried to quell the feeling of sudden regret that surged up. Okumura might have deserved everything that was coming to him, but Wakaba had been innocent. It was due to her research that Shidou had learned so much about this world, and her Shadow had been the first the man had ordered Gorou to kill. He hadn’t known she’d fall into traffic, and her death had given Shidou the idea to arrange more unfortunate ‘accidents.’ Her blood was all over Gorou’s hands, and her death still weighed heavily in his mind. It was another reason Shidou had to be destroyed.

 

“So much blood, so much death. And how much more until you’re satisfied? Maybe _you_ should be the ones wearing these red gloves.”

 

“That is correct.” The Phantom Thieves may have only heard it as a response to Mona’s question, but Gorou agreed with Joker as well; he was too dirty to deserve these pure white clothes of the hero. There was nothing heroic in his actions, only villainy. He wondered if he could still be a hero after destroying Shidou.

 

“Has Shidou been forcing you to do that as well?”

 

Queen’s question caught him off-guard, though he should have expected it. Her intelligence was something to be feared, and he wondered if it had been her who had come up with the cognitive double plan that almost saved Akira. “I…” He could see from her expression that Queen took his hesitation as affirmation. No! Shidou may have ordered it, but _he_ was the one responsible for all deaths! They shouldn’t shift the blame so quickly! “Some of them where truly vile criminals! They _deserved_ their fate!” Why were they looking at him with pity? Where did the hate go? The fear? “ _Stop looking at me like that!_ ” Their expressions were mirrors of the last look Akira had ever given him _why were they looking at him like that?_

 

“Maybe it’s true. Maybe the criminals deserved it. But the innocents? You know exactly how many you’ve killed, and how many will never wake up again. You don’t deserve their pity. You’re a _monster_.”

 

“Shut up!” Confusion on the others’ faces. Of course, they couldn’t hear Joker; his words were for Gorou only, and that made it so much worse. He stretched a hand out. He had to stop them. He’d make them pay. He’d make them _all_ pay! How _dare_ they pity him! “Robin-!”

 

A red-gloved hand rested on his own, cutting his command short. The Phantom Thieves had drawn themselves into a ready stance, summoning their own Personas in preparation for a fight, but Gorou barely noticed them. All his attention was drawn to Joker standing next to him, the once-familiar mask now an array of black and white: Loki’s colors. “You’re no hero,” Joker chastised, yellow eyes staring into his own. “You’re far from a hero, so why do you think you have the right to summon one? Call my name.”

 

His fingers twitched, and he could sense the confusion from his targets, but his attention was entirely on the dead boy. “Ro-”

 

Joker spun, coattails snapping out, so that he was standing in front of Gorou, one hand on the detective’s wrist, holding Gorou’s hand against his chest, the other hand resting over Gorou’s heart. He flinched at the memory of last night’s dream. “I am thou, thou art I. _Call. My. Name_.”

 

“Loki!” The cry ripped from his throat, painfully so, and Gorou was engulfed in cold fire. He could barely hear the cries of alarm (“he has _two_ Personas?!” “that black mask!”) over the roar of fire and blood in his veins. Joker’s form burst and rose above him, reclaiming the familiar appearance of Loki. “You want to see my true power?!” he snapped at the Thieves. “You want to see just _how_ I can twist hearts so? Then _watch_!” He reached out with his Persona’s power, looking for the familiar stream of energy that flowed through the entirety of Metaverse, above below within without, grabbed, and _pulled_.

 

A Cerberus burst forth in a shower of tangible shadow, and another pull produced a Cu Chulainn. It was simple, then. He’d done it so many times to humans’ Shadows; doing it to these was no different. Just reach out, wrap his hands around the bonds in their hearts, and _yank_. It took so very little effort for them to shatter. The Shadows lost their coloration, then, returning to the black and red that formed them.

 

It was almost pathetic how quickly the Phantom Thieves fell to him. As soon as one Shadow fell, Gorou would summon another, then another, breaking them apart from the inside, inciting psychosis. But wearing them down wasn’t fast enough. He wanted to be rid of them _now_. And Loki was all too happy to indulge, swinging his sword Laevateinn around, cutting into spirit and flesh. But with his additions, the battle seemed to end almost too early, and the Thieves were bent over on the ground, fighting for consciousness. It was a good look for them, kneeling at his feet. He raised his hand and Loki raised his sword in response, readying his final blow.

 

He paused.

 

Did he really have to kill them? So many had already died; were their deaths necessary?

 

“No more than mine was.” Gorou _really_ wished Loki would stop using Akira’s voice; it was driving him insane.

 

A blood-curdling scream drew his attention back to the group in front of him. A leopard-headed Ose had run his sword through Oracle. Gorou’s mouth went dry and he tried to swallow down the guilt. A broken Shadow wouldn’t stop attacking until it was destroyed, even if its opponent was no longer capable of fighting back… Her friends were screaming her name as the Shadow pulled back, raising its sword to strike again in a blow that would surely kill her.

 

He was moving before he knew it, and the Ose looked down in confusion at the laser saber protruding from its chest before it dissolved. Then he was kneeling, gently lifting the girl’s shoulders, hand hovering over her wound. She would die from this. He hadn’t meant… She couldn’t even _fight_ , just provided power boosts and healing…

 

“Get _away_ from her, you-!” Skull’s voice cried out in desperation and fear, and Gorou’s stomach knotted. He’d done this. This was his fault. Had he really wanted to kill them? He’d just wanted them to stop…

 

“Robin Hood. Robin Hood, _please_.”

 

“You’re not a hero,” Joker hissed. “ _You_ did this.”

 

“I know. I don’t care. You can’t help. Give me back Robin Hood.”

 

“…As you wish.”

 

The familiar sensation of the bandit thief rose in his mind and Gorou latched onto it, drawing on his power. A green glow enveloped his hand and the bleeding slowed, then stopped. It would still be painful, but it was no longer life-threatening.

 

There was suddenly someone next to him – Panther – arm brushing against his as she gently tried to take Futaba from him, even with all her injuries. He let her, stumbling back. She was exhausted. He could see her shaking with the effort to even hold the smaller girl, but still she persisted.

 

He couldn’t…

 

He took another step back and jumped as a hand wrapped around his arm. “Not gonna finish them off?” He stiffened. The Cleaner. The Thieves would have no chance-!

 

“They’re hardly in any shape to continue.” He tried to quell the shaking in his voice. He’d killed Wakaba and had nearly killed her daughter just now. “They won’t be back.” He looked back over at the group and stiffened when he realized Queen was staring at him, evaluating. Then she sighed and shook her head and Gorou relaxed. Good. It would be safer for them to wash their hands of this whole affair. He would be able to safely report to Shidou that the Phantom Thieves would never trouble him again, and they’d be able to live normal lives.

 

The yakuza cast a look over to the Thieves – Fox was gingerly lifting Oracle up to stumble out to the entrance – then back to Gorou. “Yer a real softie, ya know that?”

 

Gorou wasn’t so sure.

 

* * *

 

 

_< = Yeah, I’ll be there._

 

That was the last text Akira had ever sent Yuuki. He’d asked if they could hang out in Akihabara for the weekend, and his classmate had agreed. They’d spent a good portion of the day browsing video games and manga, experiencing a maid café for the first time (Yuuki had been surprised that this was the first time Akira had been inside one, with how often he’d seen the boy in town and that whole fiasco with the maid service so many months ago), and hanging out at the arcade. They’d run across one of Akira’s friends there; a small elementary school-aged kid, and Akira really had friends from all sorts of walks of life, didn’t he? The kid – Shinya, he learned – had challenged them to a GunAbout battle, to which Yuuki had lost horribly. Then it was Akira’s turn, and his classmate lasted a good twenty minutes longer than him before dying. Yuuki nearly had a heart attack when the kid’s screen name popped up; how the heck had Akira managed to befriend the best player _ever?_

 

They had gone out for lunch, the three of them, with Akira paying for Shinya’s share, and they talked about finals next month (Akira wasn’t worried, and why should he be, with his academic record?), girls (none of them had a girlfriend, but Akira admitted there was someone he was interested in, though he wouldn’t say who), and video games (Shinya was _obsessed_ with GunAbout, but there were at least a few other games he played at home). They’d parted ways around sunset, and Akira had confessed to wanting to hang out again in the near future.

 

A week later, Kawakami-sensei had announced Kurusu Akira had been in a traffic accident (lies lies only he knew the truth). Flowers began appearing on his desk, and Yuuki added a small vase of white fringed orchids to the meagre collection. Takamaki brought in a large bouquet of asters, all whites and blues and purples, that overshadowed the rest of the offerings. And every week, she would replace the flowers as they wilted, even when no replacements came for the others. He wondered if she was the one Akira had been interested in, and if he’d managed to tell her before…

 

No one who made plans for the future committed suicide.

 

That night, he set to work on updating the PhanSite. The numbers for ‘innocent’ had dropped even more, and after Akechi’s last interview, more and more people were leaving comments calling for the arrest and execution of the remaining members. He had to change the question, if only to stop the influx of death threats to whoever Akira’s companions may have been. _Do the Phantom Thieves deserve to die?_ No, that wouldn’t change anything, and it would hurt too much if even a small portion voted ‘Yes.’ The question might even be taken as the Admin having switched sides _against_ the Thieves, which was a definite no-no. _Do you believe in the Phantom Thieves?_ Yes, that one was much better. Even if they were laying low now, he hoped they would soon make a dramatic announcement. Their return to the stage, carrying on after the tragic murder of their leader, intent on getting revenge… Soon, everyone would see how wrong they were. They’d come flocking back to the site, screaming their support of the Thieves for the world to hear, demanding justice be carried out on the guilty.

 

Soon.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why does a café have alcohol?”

 

“You’re drinking it, you tell me.”

 

Sae sipped at her coffee and Irish cream cocktail. It was delicious, of course. Rich and smooth and with just the right balance of bitterness and sweetness. “There are lots of mixed drink recipes involving coffee, espresso, and cream,” she answered. “Still surprised you offer it.”

 

“It’s not something I advertise. I’m happy with my clientele. I don’t want a bar full of drunks bothering me at night.”

 

“Is that also why you close early?”

 

Soujirou hummed in response and sipped at his own cup, which Sae was fairly sure was more alcohol than coffee.

 

She had stopped in to tell to him how Akira’s parents had dropped by the precinct to retrieve Akira’s ashes and belongings, and to also commiserate about how her and Soujirou’s only families were risking their lives so late into the night when the door had jingled. She watched as Soujirou’s color had drained to match Futaba’s pale countenance, held so limply in Yuusuke’s arms. She could swear their hearts didn’t start back up until Haru announced that she was just sleeping. Badly hurt, but alive. The reality of the situation suddenly settled over Sae. Saying they were risking their lives was one thing, but to see proof of how close they had come to losing yet another child…

 

She finished her cup and slid it over to Soujirou, who simply chuckled and rose to get her another. How he could still laugh in this situation…

 

The prosecutor had felt a surge of guilt as she had watched the man care for his adopted daughter, bandaging her and tucking her into bed. How could she have _thought_ to slap him with abuse charges when it was so obvious he loved her as if she were his own?

 

…How would Sae have felt, had someone tried to bring accusations of abuse against _her_ for _Makoto’s_ treatment? She glanced over at her sister, sleeping in one of the booths; Soujirou had brought down a blanket for her. The others had left for their own homes and families, but Sae had urged Makoto to stay behind. They’d go home together. She didn’t want her sister on her own after something like this.

 

“…What can we do to help them?” The words were out of her mouth before she knew it, but she wondered if there was even an answer. Those children had access to such amazing powers, but with those abilities came danger in the form of like adversaries. Like Akechi-kun.

 

To hear that he was the one who saved Futaba’s life, though, after he had killed Akira-kun… There was so much more to this story that Sae was missing. She wondered if she should confront him, try to enlist his help to bring Shidou down with the full strength of the law. But she also wondered if Akechi-kun would even admit to the lives that he had taken, under Shidou’s orders or not.

 

“I haven’t a goddamn clue,” Soujirou growled, drawing Sae from her musings. “Coffee and curry can fill an empty stomach and soothe the soul, but it can’t do jack _shit_ about a stab wound.”

 

A refill appeared in front of her and she sipped at it, thinking. How many criminals had she put away that _hadn’t_ had a change of heart? The Phantom Thieves had some amazing powers, but prosecutors existed to put away those heinous criminals that neither admitted to nor regretted their actions. If they couldn’t change Shidou’s heart, she’d have to deal with this the old-fashioned way. “Maybe we should ask them to stop. There are other ways to deal with criminals.”

 

Soujirou glanced over at her, slipping back into his own seat and returning to his own cocktail. “I used to work for the government, you know.”

 

“Yes, I know.”

 

“I think I still have a few connections. Could maybe help get you the evidence you need.”

 

He smirked over his cup at her, and Sae couldn’t help but return it. It was time for the adults to start being responsible for their own messes.

 

* * *

 

 

The energy drain from the Metaverse always seemed worse when crossing over into the real world, though that could also have been because of his mental exhaustion at the events earlier this evening.

 

Why had he saved Futaba? Why had he let things get to that point? Why had he lost his temper and let Loki loose on them in the first place?

 

_Because you love me._

 

No he didn’t. Did he? He didn’t know anymore. His head was a mess. Everything was getting jumbled too easily, he was losing his temper far more often, and it was getting harder and harder to keep up his Detective Prince façade, especially with how Shidou kept urging him. Kill, kill, kill, always kill. He was tired of it. So tired.

 

At least there were only a couple days left. He had all the evidence he needed to send Shidou away for life. Maybe multiple life sentences, wouldn’t that be fun? He just had to gather it all together and send it to a safe place. Perhaps he’d work with Niijima-san again. If she was working with the Thieves, surely she’d jump at the opportunity to take Shidou down. And after the events of today…

 

Yes. He’d collect everything tomorrow, after a good rest, and then confront her about taking down the most powerful man in the country with insurmountable evidence. A little psychotic breakdown would help move things along swimmingly, as well.

 

A soft chuckle in his ear made him abandon all plans for a good rest. No, Loki would continue to torture him with nightmares. Memories and fears and what-could-have-beens, all with Akira’s face. The jerk.

 

A shadow pulled itself away from the wall in front of the door to his apartment, and Gorou pulled up short. Who was…?

 

“Hey, kid.”

 

He tensed. _Why the hell was the Cleaner_ here?! “Why are you here?”

 

“Think you know why.” No. No, this couldn’t be. He was _so close!_ He shifted a foot, preparing to run, fight, anything. He wished he was back in the Metaverse where he could _fight!_ “Boss’s happy ‘bout the work you’ve done, but, well.” The man shrugged. “‘No loose ends,’ he said, and yer a pretty big one.” A gun was whipped out, pointed straight at Gorou. “No hard feelin’s, kid. If it’s any consolation-”

 

“It’s not.”

 

“-you were really good at your job. Better than me, even, and that’s sayin’ somethin’. See ya.”

 

Gorou turned, but he wasn’t fast enough. The explosion rung in his ears, slamming into his shoulder and sending him spinning. The ground rose up to meet him and he stretched a hand out to catch himself, but fire blazed through his chest, his arm, and it wouldn’t move as he wanted. A stabbing pain blossomed behind his eyes as his head struck the pavement. Another explosion ripped through him, making its way from his back to his lungs and heart (could a heart that wasn’t there still hurt so?). He couldn’t breathe-! He couldn’t-

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t understand…”

 

Chihaya worried at her thumbnail as she attempted to puzzle over the meaning of her reading. It was clear that Akira was linked to the oncoming disaster, and without him, the world would face a terrible calamity. Not for the first time, she wished for the boy’s power to change fate. The Fool, in every aspect, truly. What she couldn’t wrap her mind around was the reading she had done for Akira: unchanging, no matter how many times she shuffled and laid the cards out.

 

How could someone be both dead _and_ alive?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *casually lines up two cliffhangers and waits for the screams*
> 
>  
> 
> hanakotoba:  
> asters - remembrance  
> white fringed orchids - my thoughts will follow you into your dreams


	7. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile...

 

He woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. The familiar lighting of the room no longer was of any comfort to him, and he wished every day that he could wake up somewhere else. He missed the smell of coffee he’d come to associate with _home_.

 

“Why are you doing this?!” he shouted out the door to the ever-present, ever-annoying figure there. He’d once liked the man, who had taught him about the Metaverse, who had taught him about Persona and gave him a way to fuse and create new ones. But now, that sickening grin simply seemed to taunt him in his cell.

 

And the _visions._

 

Igor had told him he could give Akira a glimpse into the future, to know how his friends were doing and if they’d be okay without him. When he had agreed, however, the being had taken it upon itself to torture him with horrid visions of the present, future, past… He didn’t know where in time he was anymore, the dreams were jumping around too much.

 

“You wished to know how your friends were doing,” Igor answered with a chuckle. “I cannot show you exactly how things will be, but rest assured that their current path and actions will take them to a very similar future.”

 

“‘Rest assured?!’ My friends are _dead_! Every single time, at least one of them is _dead_! This isn’t letting me view the world of the living, this is _torture_!” He saw the twins cast a glance at each other but ignored them; his beef was with the warden.

 

“Dead? Oh dear. That’s not a very desirable outcome, is it?” The _creature_ never lost its smirk. “I pray that events shall not lead to such a thing.”

 

He could tell that monster was lying through its teeth, and enjoying every moment of it. Futaba’s scream still rung in his ears. He could still see her, bleeding out on the ornate carpet, Akechi standing above her, sword dripping with blood, laughing…

 

He wanted to think better of the boy. He had liked Akechi, truly liked him. If it weren’t for the whole ‘planning to kill him’ thing, Akira would have wanted to make Crow a permanent member of the team. He had wanted to _trust_ , dammit, and he’d been killed for it. He could only hope that Akechi hadn’t truly wanted to, and all visions of the detective slaughtering his friends were but a fabrication created by Igor.

 

He curled back up on his cot, hands over his ears, trying to block the sound of laughter. Why was he being punished so much for dying? He’d failed to do something important, more important than the phone. He’d failed and his friends were sentenced to eternally die for Akira’s own punishment.

 

He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He had to get out of here. But how?

 

He fought against the sleep that pulled at him – not again! He’d just woken up! He couldn’t deal with another vision, not now!

 

He slammed a hand against the invisible barrier that was always there in every dream, as if he could break through this time, as if he could stop it from showing such chilling scenery. But the image never changed, and all Akira could do was cry as he watched Akechi’s bullet-riddled body bleed out on the sidewalk.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so who of you saw this coming? I'd like to know~
> 
> Ygor's abilities taken from the promotional OAV Day Breakers
> 
> I know this chapter is much shorter than the others, sorry about that. well, that's why this is an interlude and not a full chapter


	8. Chapter 6

 

“-Police are still investigating the disappearance of beloved high school ace detective, Akechi Gorou. Several neighbors reported hearing gunshots, and investigating officers discovered Akechi-san’s apartment had been burgled. No prints were discovered at the scene, and police have no leads. Yakuza or Mafia involvement is speculated, but unsubstantiated. Police ask citizens to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity-”

 

Soujirou muted the TV. He didn’t need to hear about the death of another child, no matter how guilty of murder. No one deserved to die. Well, maybe that asshole Shidou did, but like hell he was going to say that out loud. The teenagers he’d found under his care were still so innocent and naïve, even after everything they’d seen and done, and he wasn’t about to take that away from them.

 

Futaba had barely woken up all week. Takemi had said it was a combination of shock and blood loss, and had prescribed some medicine and plenty of bedrest. Soujirou had wanted to take her home to her own room, but he still needed to run his shop, and it was far easier to set a futon up here rather than run back and forth throughout the day to check on her. Not to mention she had made herself at home in the attic, and taking her away from that might make things worse.

 

Her injury worried him, too. It was deep and painful, and would be slow to heal. Though the fact that she had come back mostly-healed was still surprising. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was a week old,” Takemi had said when she looked at the scarring, both external and internal. She didn’t ask any more questions, though, and Soujirou was grateful; he wouldn’t have been able to answer them. The kids had told him that, in the cognitive world, some of them had the power to heal. One of whom was Akechi. He had attacked them, yes, but they were all firm in denying that it had been the detective to land the blow on Futaba. In fact, he had turned on her attacker and used his healing ability to save her life.

 

And now the boy was most likely dead. How many more lives would Shidou take?

 

Speaking of the kids, they were upstairs visiting Futaba at this very moment. They came to check on her every day, always spending as much time with her as their schedules permitted, regardless of whether she woke up for the visits or not. He was glad she had such a reliable group of friends now, even if they did get into deadly situations. He set about making a large pot of curry, just for them. Sure, his profits were taking a hit, but there was no way he’d let anyone say he was letting the teens starve.

 

As Soujirou climbed the stairs, tray full of hot curry, Sakamoto’s voice floated down to him. “We can’t just give up!” It was a furious whisper, spoken as though he was so desperately trying to remain quiet. Futaba must still be sleeping, then.

 

“Futaba nearly _died_. If we can’t even beat Akechi…”

 

“He might be stronger than the Cleaner _and_ Shidou, you don’t know! We could still take ‘em!”

 

“Are you suggesting that we should just leave her behind? After everything?”

 

There was a bunch of meowing, and Soujirou still found it hard to believe that the cat could really speak, but all of the kids insisted.

 

“That’s right. We’ve managed to do Palaces without her, before. We’ve- Oh, hello, Master.” Takamaki shifted awkwardly, tucking some hair behind her ear as Soujirou finished climbing the stairs. There was an awkward silence as the argument stopped abruptly, and Soujirou sighed.

 

“Look. I know I’m just another adult, so I don’t know if you’re going to even listen to me or not.” He slid the tray onto the table and took a look around. At least they looked interested in what he had to say _now_. He sighed again, rubbing the back of his head with a hand. “I’d like you all to stop this Phantom Thief stuff.” Cries of outrage sounded, the kids shouting over each other in protest, punctuated by a very angry yowl. So he’d even managed to piss off the cat. Well, he’d expected that, and held up a hand to try to quiet them again. “There are other ways to go about bringing someone to justice. Have been for centuries before any of this cognitive psience stuff. That’s why laws _exist_.”

 

“But he’s the effin’ _Prime Minister!_ ” Ryuuji exclaimed. “He’s above the law!”

 

“ _No one_ is above the law,” Soujirou growled back. “He might think he is, and he might be bribing some cops, but if enough evidence against him is gathered and released to the public, even _he_ won’t be able to stop the fallout.”

 

Takamaki shot to her feet. “But he’ll kill you! You don’t know what lengths he’ll go to, what he’s capable of-”

 

“I know damn well what that bastard’s capable of!” he shouted, slamming a hand against the desk and rattling the contents. The entire group flinched back from him, startled. Shit. He’d forgotten he was dealing with a bunch of kids who’d suffered abuse at the hands of adults. He drew his hand back to his side and forced it open. Got to be non-threatening. He wasn’t going to hurt them. He would _never_ hurt them.

 

“Akira’s not the only one I’ve lost to Shidou,” he continued, more calmly this time. “But you all… You’re just kids.” Mouths opened in protest, but he continued. “You might have some weird powers, but you’re still just _kids_. It’s not right that you should be the ones risking your lives while us old folk get to retire in peace. _We_ should be the ones making sure that _you_ have a future.”

 

They were silent now, most of them looking down at the floor, embarrassed or contemplating, Soujirou didn’t know. “I’ve already lost one kid. I don’t want to lose another. _Any_ of you,” he clarified as a few gazes turned to Futaba. She might be his daughter, but it was clear he was pretty much the only adult looking out for any of their safety, Sae notwithstanding. Adult though the prosecutor was, she, too, was still so young, and had her whole life ahead of her. She’d be risking it too, looking for key evidence against Shidou, and Soujirou wanted to keep her as safe as possible. The teens were quiet now, hopefully thinking over what he said and not just waiting until he left to disobey. “I hope you’ll take our feelings into account when you make your decision.”

 

“Our…?”

 

“Your sister, too,” he nodded at Makoto. “We talked about it the other day. It’s time us adults fixed our own goddamned mistakes. For now, though, I brought curry for you guys.” He motioned to the tray, still on the table. After all that, it’d probably be the perfect temperature to eat now. “I’ll be downstairs if any of you need me.” He still had to work, after all. And maybe some customers to placate who might have heard his shouting.

 

* * *

 

 

Silence reigned for a good long while after Soujirou left, before Haru quietly got up to retrieve the tray of curry. Then, just as quietly, she handed each plate out to everyone. There was even an extra plate for Futaba, just in case she woke up again. Ryuuji and Yuusuke ate in silence while the others barely touched their food, contemplating the café owner’s words.

 

“Are we quitting?” Haru asked after a while, voice barely loud enough to hear over the clinking of forks.

 

Makoto swallowed. What would Akira do in this situation? He’d go in guns blazing, of course. But… He could also easily carve a path for the rest, all by himself. Had even done so a few times, when the others had been too overcome with fear to fight. Akira would have continued on, told them not to give up, to do what was _right_. He would sacrifice himself without a thought, just to save them.

 

 _Had_ sacrificed himself.

 

They could all pretend that he hadn’t gone down without a fight, holding onto the image of Joker, defiant to the end. But the truth of the matter was that he’d been tortured. Drugged. There wouldn’t have been any fight, not on his part. Makoto wondered how scared Akira would have been, at the end, when Akechi came to kill him. If he had tried to run.

 

But he wasn’t here anymore. It was Akira who had been their strength. If he was still here, they might have even successfully brought Shidou down by now. But he _wasn’t_ here, and it had taken them so long to get to where they were, only to be stopped by Akechi…

 

And now Akechi was dead, too. They’d all gotten a glimpse of the pain and anguish the boy was in, during their fight in the Palace. Makoto wondered just how much of a hold Shidou had over Akechi, to force him to kill someone he had so clearly liked. It hadn’t all been an act, when he’d been a part of them, and Makoto wasn’t the only one to have noticed.

 

But he’d still gone through with it.

 

His power in the Palace had been unbelievable. Summoning Shadows from nothingness… Even Joker hadn’t been able to do that. And then making them go psychotic… If Akechi had had all that power, why, then, had he not used it against Shidou? Was it that he didn’t want to? Or that he had tried and failed to?

 

Makoto set her untouched plate to the side. “I think…” She could feel their gazes on her, but she didn’t lift her head. “I think…we should wait until Futaba’s recovered. We can’t go up against Shidou if we’re not at full strength.” They might not be able to go up against him at all, but she wouldn’t say that just yet. “We might have gone through Palaces without her before, it’s true, but… I’m not sure if we’ll stand a chance without her.”

 

Silence greeted her, and she still didn’t look up, not wanting to see anyone’s faces, disappointed, or doubting that she was fit for the role of leader after all.

 

“Okay.” Again, Haru’s voice cut through the silence so easily.

 

“We… We can go to Mementos!” Everyone looked up at Morgana’s suggestion. “Maybe we can’t change Shidou’s heart _now_ , but if we focus on other criminals, and train, we’ll soon be strong enough to go up against both that Cleaner guy _and_ him!”

 

“Awright! Now _that’s_ a plan!” Ryuuji’s enthusiasm was catching, and Makoto shot the cat a grateful smile. She didn’t want to call it quits either, not really, but going to Mementos instead would prevent them from being in _too_ much danger, plus prepare them for the inevitable fight ahead.

 

“Let us trust in Sakura-san’s abilities, then, and change the hearts of those we can,” Yuusuke said between bites, having returned to his meal.

 

Ann smiled, picking up her own plate to eat. “And if Master needs our help after all, we’ll be there.”

 

“Yeah!”

 

* * *

 

 

No clues indeed. Sae stepped around a broken digital clock that had been tossed to the floor. She knew exactly _who_ was behind this, but there was no _proof_.

 

It was most definitely a professional job, that much was certain, but calling it a hit still wouldn’t have narrowed down the suspects. It _was_ true that Akechi-kun had gained enemies from his detective work, and any one of them was a likely suspect. She wasn’t holding out hope for a link between Shidou and Akechi, though. That would have put the man on the list of suspects, and he was far too careful, too meticulous, for that.

 

The other clue that it was professional was the size of the mess. Everything had been overturned and pulled out. Even the futon and pillows had been slashed. Whoever trashed the place had been looking for something _specific_ , and it hadn’t been money. Akechi-kun’s briefcase, laptop, and phone were missing, and with papers everywhere, file cabinets tipped over… The objective was likely information. Of course, one couldn’t tell what information was missing until it was recovered, but…

 

…Did Akechi-kun have information on Shidou? Was that why the man killed him? Surely he wouldn’t get rid of his cognitive assassin without reason, would he?

 

A small part of her hoped the lack of body meant the boy was still alive, but the more rational part of her said it was only logical to remove it. Leaving him after a shooting might increase the chances of his survival, should an ambulance be called. And there was the matter of recovering bullets. If the police had previous records of that specific gun, it would be easy enough to find the owner and make an arrest. No, Akechi-kun’s corpse was likely floating somewhere in the bay by now. Maybe it would wash up somewhere in a few days, though it could just as easily be swept out to sea, never to be seen again. Poor kid. He’d had no one, being a ward of the state. All his assets would be recovered by the government. There would be no funeral. And sure, his fanbase would mourn, but they’d move on quickly enough.

 

Something crunched under her foot, drawing her from her musings. A picture frame? Akechi-kun had no photos anywhere in his room, and there was no stand or cord on the back for display. Had it been in one of the cabinets? She knelt down to turn it over.

 

The picture was old, creases in the center from where it had been folded twice over. Both the creases and the edges had been worn down by time and handling, bits and pieces of the image flaking off where damage was the worst. In the photograph stood a woman in a sundress, light brown hair falling around her shoulders. In her arms was a young child, no more than two, who, instead of looking at the camera, was reaching towards the woman’s face, hand on a cheek as if he was trying to pull her face into a wider smile. In the background were sakura trees in full bloom, and some out-of-focus people sitting on blue tarps. The photo must have been taken at some park during Hanami. It struck her, then, that this must be Akechi-kun’s mother. There was a sadness in her eyes that the boy, even young as he was in this photo, must have picked up on and tried to fix.

 

Being extra-cautious so as not to damage it further, Sae removed the photo from its frame, tucking it into notebook. She wasn’t sure why she was keeping it safe, all she knew was that a picture like this shouldn’t simply be thrown away. Someone at least needed to remember the both of them.

 

As she started to set the frame back on the ground where she found it, however, something fell out, making a small pinging sound as it landed by her feet. What was…?

 

A key? There was no tag on it, but a number was engraved into the head. A coin locker key? But to where?

 

Her heart leapt. This was something both Akechi-kun’s assassin and the police had passed over. And handing it over now… There was no guarantee it wouldn’t wind up in the hands of Shidou’s dogs. Sae slipped they key into a pocket in her purse. This would take some investigating, but she was sure the payoff would be worth it.

 

_Please, Akechi-kun. Please let it be something useful._

 

* * *

 

 

“Not suicide.”

 

“You sound so sure of that. Could you elaborate?”

 

“Sure.” The doctor uncrossed her legs to swivel in her chair, bringing up some files on her computer. “He volunteered for some clinical trials for a new drug I was creating, so I have a full profile on him, physical and mental, taken before and after each administration to check for side effects. I have all the information here; there were some short-term physical side effects, but no mental side effects at all. He wasn’t depressed, either, and showed no inclination for suicidal thoughts or tendencies. Nothing that hinted at self-harm, or harm of another.” The doctor turned to face her again, and Ichiko drew her eyes away from the studded collar and platform sandals. Surely those were not only unprofessional, but _unsanitary_ in a clinic environment!

 

“Er, anything else?”

 

“Yes, actually.” Takemi smirked. “I was denied access to the morgue when I attempted to view the body for a second opinion. I was only allowed entrance once he’d already been sent to the crematorium. The whole thing reeks of assassination cover-up. You can quote me on that.”

 

“To be honest, that’s my going theory. It’s why I’m conducting this investigation. I don’t believe Akira-kun would do something like that either.”

 

“You knew him too?”

 

“Yeah. He helped me out of a tight spot not that long ago. I figure clearing his name and making sure his killers _pay_ will make us even.”

 

Takemi’s smirk changed into something softer; something more fond. “He was a good kid. He helped save a little girl’s life, with that medicine I perfected on him. And after it goes to an official clinical trial, it’ll save countless more. All because of him.” The smile sharpened, then, into something darker and more sinister. “Maybe I should make them my guinea pigs for my _next_ drug…”

 

Ichiko couldn’t help the shiver that ran up her spine. She did _not_ want to get on this woman’s bad side. “Once I find out who’s behind it, I’ll definitely be going public with their names. Keep an eye out in the newspaper.”

 

“Give them hell.” Ichiko nodded. Damn straight she would. “Oh, but I wouldn’t recommend publishing under your real name. If they’ve managed to cover it up this well, they won’t take kindly to someone trying to dig up the truth.”

 

“Thank you. I’ll definitely take that under consideration.” She didn’t want to end up like Kayo. Or worse. She switched off the voice recorder, stowing it in her bag. “And, thank you for all your help, really. I won’t rest until the truth comes to light.”

 

“Anything for him.”

 

Outside the clinic, Ichiko leaned against the wall, pulling out a cigarette. This was getting deep. She had spoken to a politician earlier that week, one that had a small following of young voters. There had hardly been enough to make a significant impact in the election, but those that followed him loved him. Akira-kun had assisted him during speeches, and the politician, Yoshida Toranosuke, had told her that Akira-kun had wanted to get into politics, which surprised her. Thinking about it, though, she could see it. Former Phantom Thief campaigning for justice…

 

Yoshida had been entirely convinced that there was political foul play afoot behind the scenes, but the list he’d given her had been rather…long. One name had taken up the top spot, however. According to Yoshida, one man had enough rumors of bribes and foul play behind him to write an entire book about, should Ichiko feel so inclined. And that wasn’t even mentioning the strange series of incidents that had plagued the country for the past couple of years; incidents that somehow benefited both that man and all of those that supported him.

 

Shidou Masayoshi. Prime Minister of Japan.

 

She took a long drag from her cigarette. _Shit_ but this was intense. The Phantom Thieves had been such a threat to the Prime Minister somehow that he’d ordered their assassination, but _why_? Why were they a threat? There was some key piece of information she was missing. The method of the changes of heart. How was it done, that the most powerful man in the country was scared of it to the point of killing a _child_?

 

She let the cigarette fall to the ground, stamping it out, and pulled out her notebook. There was another name she’d pulled up that she hoped would have answers. The man who had been in charge of Akira-kun’s probation, and he lived nearby. Sakura Soujirou. Maybe he’d be able to shed some more light on this subject.

 

* * *

 

 

Something was clogging his throat and he coughed to dislodge it. What came up tasted suspiciously like blood. What…?

 

The roar of traffic filled his ears, and when he was finally able to open his eyes, it was to darkness. Where was…? There was a sudden lurch and he bit his lip to keep from crying out in pain. The memories of – this evening? Yesterday? He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious for – came back to him in a sudden rush. He’d been fucking _shot_. And by the Cleaner, no less.

 

He drew a hand up to his shoulder, wincing at the pain the movement brought. His back felt like it was on fire and he vaguely remembered a second gunshot. Great. He’d been shot twice. The second bullet had likely been meant as an execution one, but, somehow, through some miracle (or not, because it _fucking hurt_ ), Gorou was still alive. His head still throbbed, and it felt like something was stuck to his temple. Something dry and sticky flaked off on his fingers as he investigated the area, verifying that he’d hit his head. Right. He’d fallen to the ground and had been unable to catch himself.

 

He couldn’t see the extent of his injuries in the dark, though, and… Wait, where exactly _was_ he? Road noises, the occasional bumps, the familiar double-clack sound of expansion joints… He must be in the Cleaner’s car. He tried to feel around the area and paused when plastic crinkled around his hand. A tarp, maybe? So as not to get blood on anything, right. At least they hadn’t bound him, maybe thinking him already dead. Grimacing, he attempted to unwrap himself from the tarp. He had to get out, before the Cleaner stopped the car and finished the job.

 

Fumbling around in the dark, he found his way to the trunk, cursing inwardly when he failed to find a latch cable. He supposed he could kick out the taillights to alert someone else on the road, but there were too many variables to make it safe. There might not be anyone out there to see him, and he would have expended what little energy he had to no avail. Or worse, whatever police that arrived would be in Shidou’s pocket, and Gorou would wind up very, very dead.

 

He took a few deep breaths, steeling himself. This would hurt like hell.

 

With all of his strength, Gorou kicked at the latch with his heel. _Fuck_ that hurt! The bullets were still _inside_ him! He kicked again, and he could hear voices coming from within the car, muffled by the back seat. There was a sudden decrease in speed and Gorou slammed into the back of the trunk. He couldn’t stop the yelp of pain then, blood in his mouth and the bullet in his back feeling like it had edged that much closer to his lungs. Adrenaline and survival instinct spurred him on, however. No matter how much it hurt now, if he stopped to rest, he _would_ die. He _couldn’t_ , not after all this! Not with all his carefully-laid plans! After Shidou was taken care of, he could rest, but until then… _Until then…_

 

A third kick and the latch buckled, Gorou feeling a surge of triumph as the trunk flew open. It was a short-lived victory as he felt the car’s suspension lift, signaling the exit of the vehicle’s passengers. He sluggishly crawled out, landing on the asphalt with another whimper of pain, feeling as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

 

“Damn, kid, yer still alive after that?”

 

Instead of deigning to respond, he mustered his strength and kicked the Cleaner in the shin. The yakuza yelped in pain, limping back, and Gorou lashed out with his foot again, sweeping the man’s leg out from under him. He scrambled up as the Cleaner went down, stumbling over to the barricade.

 

“What’re y’all standin’ ‘round for? Get ‘im!”

 

His shoulder screamed in pain as he slammed his elbow back into the abdomen of one of the goons, and the sudden grip on him loosened. He spun to face the other one, pulling keys from his pocket to jab them into his assailant. There was a grunt of pain as the man stumbled back, the keys coming away bloody. His knees hit the back of the barrier and he looked back. And down. Shit.

 

The cock of a gun drew his attention back to the Cleaner. “End of the line, kid. Gotta admire yer tenacity. You really don’t give up, huh?”

 

“Fuck you,” he spat back, then coughed, wiping the blood that dribbled from his mouth.

 

The Cleaner barked out a laugh. “You got spunk, too! I won’t forget you, kid, and that’s a compliment.” Gorou didn’t want compliments; he wanted a way out of this situation. Maybe he could make that landing…? The ‘maybe’ would be better than the death staring him in the face. “Just give up, kid. I’ll give you a painless death, how ‘bout that?”

 

“How ‘bout you go to Hell?” Gorou leaned back and fell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about the use of 'Master' in reference to Sojiro:  
> They call him Master instead of Boss in the Japanese version, as 'Master' is what you call the owner of a bar (barmaster). The use of 'master' seems to be a minor theme in the game (aruji, goshujinsama, Master), in addition to the larger theme of inmate/prisons, so that's why I'm using the Japanese nickname for Sojiro ~~though why I'm still calling her Oracle instead of Navi idefk~~
> 
>  
> 
> thank y'all for all the kudos and comments! sorry I'm not replying to all of you, but know that ilu all!


	9. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT DEAD I swear  
> I just moved and things are really difficult but HEY LOOK SHINY NEW CHAPTER. getting this out to you right after it's done instead of waiting for the weekend 'cause y'all deserve it asap
> 
> as always, thank you for your support!
> 
>  
> 
>  Warnings for mention of rape and suicide.
> 
> PS: I edited the previous chapters, which is mostly spelling changes, but there are some minor dialogue changes too

 

Mementos was noisy. Where before Shibuya Station had been empty and grey, devoid of life, now people trickled out of the platform gates. Were it not for the glowing yellow eyes of the people passing them by, Ryuuji would have thought they hadn’t entered the Metaverse at all. And they hadn’t even entered the depths proper, still clad in their school uniforms. There were even splashes of color here and there – nonsensical advertisements and TVs running without sound – and the faint music of Shibuya Crossing filtered through the murmurs of the crowd.

 

Ann stared. “What…?”

 

“Where did all these people _come_ from?!” Ryuuji demanded.

 

“I’ve never seen any Shadows on this level of Mementos,” Morgana stated, awed. _“Never.”_

 

The cognitive Station felt more lively and real, but at the same time, it was such a jarring change. What had happened to spur such a transformation?

 

“…They’re leaving.”

 

“Well, yeah, I guess people come and go from train stations all the time, but-”

 

“No,” Yusuke’s tone was insistent, cutting Ryuuji off. “They are _all_ leaving.”

 

There was silence as the group took a look around – really _looking_ – and realized that, yes, no one was going _into_ the station gates, only walking out of them. And towards the station entrance.

 

“-I will make this country the greatest in the world!” The familiar voice had them all jumping as they looked around for its source. A TV screen was showing a recap of the election results, but that had been nearly a week ago, surely it was old news by now…?

 

“Isn’t he wonderful?” An old woman stood next to the group, looking up at the screen. She looked rather normal, save for the yellow eyes and shadowy wisps at her feet that revealed her as a Shadow. “Such an excellent choice for prime minister. He will be the one to save us all.”

 

“He… Are you talking about _Shidou?_ ” Makoto could barely believe it. Though… It _was_ true they’d failed to expose his crimes. It was only logical that people would support him without knowing the truth. He’d fooled the public so perfectly…

 

“Of course I am, dear. He’s the only choice for Japan.”

 

“He’s a murderer!” Ryuuji’s outburst caused the Shadow to take a step back in shock. “He’s killed so many people… He killed our friend!”

 

“Now, dear, I am sure that’s not true, a nice young man like him. You children and your wild fanciful stories… You must grow up to become a productive member of society, and Shidou-san is a perfect role model. You would do well to learn from him. Shouting at an old woman, goodness, do they even teach manners anymore?”

 

“You-!”

 

Ann reacted quickly, dragging Ryuuji behind her and smiling in apology. Even if they weren’t in the depths, these were still Shadows, and could probably still turn into monsters if provoked. “I apologize for my friend, you’re right, he could use a few lessons in manners. But it’s true that Shidou isn’t who he pretends to be. Please, ma’am, you can’t support someone like him.”

 

“Such a nice young lady.” Ann tried not to flinch as the Shadow patted her cheek. “You’ll make a fine wife one day. But there’s so much children just don’t know. You will come to see just how good for our country he will be. And I hear his ship is a wonder to behold. Oh, I hope I can get on board!” She suddenly turned around to join the crowd as it made its way out of the station, only pausing to give them a polite bow goodbye.

 

“That was…unusual.” The Shadows Morgana was used to didn’t really interact with anyone unprovoked, even those with budding Treasures. But this woman had been just a normal Shadow, no Treasure, no warped desires. And she had spoken to them of her own volition, been _friendly_ , if a little rude, and then had…left Mementos. No one _left_ Mementos.

 

“She mentioned Shidou’s Palace.” Makoto turned to the cat. “Is it possible for a Shadow from Mementos to enter his Palace?”

 

“Well… It took some effort, but I was able to travel between Mementos and Palaces before I met you guys. And we fought against other human Shadows in Shidou’s Palace. So… It’s very likely.”

 

“So is _everyone_ going to that bastard’s Palace?”

 

There was silence as the group considered the possibility. People suddenly leaving Mementos, after the election results…

 

“He’s everywhere…” Haru’s voice trembled, and Makoto nodded, sympathizing. It was difficult to get away from the man’s influence, and if it was spreading this far…

 

“No, Mako-chan, _look_. He’s _everywhere_.”

 

The student president looked up to where her friend’s attention was, and realized she was looking at a poster of the prime minister in a rather triumphant pose. Haru made another motion and Makoto continued to look around, the group following in turn. Poster after poster, all in color against the drab gray walls, TV screen after TV screen, blaring out interviews and speeches. The drone in the Palace had become white noise to her; she hadn’t even realized that was what was playing in the background of the station. “Morgana…” she began, slowly. “What happens when a Palace gets so powerful, it begins to influence Mementos?”

 

“…I don’t know.” He sounded scared by his own admission. “But I know it’s not anything good.”

 

“We still have targets from the Phan-Site,” Yuusuke reminded them. “Are they still present in Mementos?”

 

Makoto checked the app, sighing in relief as the hits came up positive. “Yes, they’re still here.”

 

“Well what’re we waitin’ for?” Ryuuji began to jog over to the gates, the crowd of Shadows parting to make room for him and shooting him dirty looks for getting in their way. “Maybe we can learn more ‘bout what’s goin’ on from ‘em! C’mon!”

 

It was as good a lead as any.

 

* * *

 

 

It had taken a while to find the right location. Sae was no detective, but a certain level of investigative skill was necessary for being a prosecutor in the first place. And there had been many rumored sightings of Akechi-kun that weren’t newsworthy, but were noted by his devout fans. Following those, Sae was able to narrow possible locations down until finally, she had found the station with a matching coin locker key.

 

Shin-Misato Station. Fan reports had spotted Akechi-kun on the Musashino Line, which was rather out of the way from his apartment and school, and so much further from his recent haunts in Yongenjaya that it was suspicious enough to investigate.

 

Sae counted down the rows of lockers, looking for the number that matched the one on the key. She felt a rush of triumph and pride when it clicked open, but confusion moments later. Surely this couldn’t be the right locker? It looked more like a child’s cubby. A large stuffed black cat took up much of the space, patches of fur and one button eye missing, indicating it had been well-loved. A couple of old plastic Star Wars figures lay against its side, paint flaking at the joints from use and age. A hardback copy of Robin Hood and His Merry Outlaws was wedged between the plush and the side of the locker, and when Sae pulled it out to flip through it, it was riddled with a child’s doodles and notes, in whatever color of pen, crayon, or marker must have been within reach at the time.

 

The prosecutor was beginning to think that maybe she’d gotten the wrong locker, that the key had just happened to fit out of pure chance, when she flipped to a page with a picture in it. A newborn baby in a hospital bassinet. A note was scribbled on the back, in a hand unfamiliar to her. ‘Akechi Gorou, 2 days.’

 

Sae sucked in a breath. She’d known the boy was an orphan, but to see proof that he’d once had someone; that he’d once had _family…_

 

She continued to flip through the pages, slower this time, looking for more photographs. There were a few more, not in any chronological order. A toddler drawing in a book, a baby in a crib, Gorou in a kindergartener’s uniform, a young Gorou and that woman (his mother, it must have been) feeding deer in a zoo… But why were these photos _here_ and not at his apartment?

 

There was more in the locker. A small dark blue notebook was mostly-hidden under the cat’s tail. It looked like it could have been a police notebook at first glance, but as Sae pulled it out, the logo was anything but official. In fact, it looked vaguely familiar, as if it had been from this one anime that she and Makoto used to watch when they were much younger.

 

 _Captain’s Log_ , the first entry read, _Stardate 20XX.02.12. Found some money. Bought this notebook cause I’m gonna be a reel police ocifer one day and every ocifer has a notebook. The evil witch ~~consi~~ ~~confec~~ takes our money when we find it so we gotta use it all up quickly. Had a burger. It was deelishus._

 

This was… Akechi-kun’s diary? An early one, from the looks of the shaky writing and all the spelling mistakes. But who was this ‘evil witch’ he was referring to? Surely not his mother…? There were more entries, and Sae’s horror grew as this young boy listed off abuse after abuse perpetrated by this ‘evil witch’ and her ‘henchmen,’ visited not only on him, but also on other children. And then there was the bullying…

 

There were numerous issues with these government childcare institutions, Sae knew, but she hadn’t realized things would be this _bad_. That precious child who had just wanted to make his mother happy had been dumped into a place like _this?_ How many more children had the world tried to forget, sweeping them under a rug? According to this diary, too many. Far too many.

 

The notebook was closed with a snap. She couldn’t take any more of this. A child documenting his own innocence being torn to shreds by children and adults alike. It was too much. There was one more item in the locker to investigate, anyhow. A small stack of manila folders, tied together with fraying twine, was buried underneath everything else. Her pocketknife made short work of the string, and she flipped through the folders.

 

The first one held a birth certificate, but Sae was surprised to discover that it was not Akechi-kun’s. Well, not Gorou’s, rather. The name on it belonged to one Akechi Misato. Born, Edogawa, Tokyo, to Akechi Kogorou and Akechi Fujiko. Other papers revealed copies of education and work history, the death certificates of Akechi-kun’s parents, research into family history and possible relatives (none; Misato had been an only child of only children). And then… Misato’s death certificate. And a police report. A child had called the police saying that their mama was dead. Cause of death, self-inflicted strangulation.

 

Suicide by hanging.

 

There were more papers. It seemed as if Akechi-kun had been trying to prove foul play with her death, but... There was none. No grudges against her, solid alibis. There was a long list of names – several pages stapled together – with a note next to each one proclaiming their innocence, or their ignorance. It was obvious, with this level of research, that Akechi-kun had _wanted_ it to be murder, rather than suicide. Sae couldn’t blame him. The poor boy must have wanted someone to shift the blame on, someone other than the mother he so loved. But reality was harsh and unforgiving.

 

She closed the folder and opened the next. This one had Akechi-kun’s birth certificate, and she nearly flipped past it before doing a double-take at the names at the top. Parents: Akechi Misato and… Shidou Masayoshi. There were more names in the folder; records of abortions paid for by an anonymous donor, birth certificates listed without a father’s name – plastered with sticky notes in Akechi-kun’s hand – charges of sexual harassment filed against the politician, either settled or dropped. Evidence of blackmail against all of these people, Misato included.

 

Akechi Gorou was Shidou Masayoshi’s bastard. Akechi Gorou had half-siblings, whom he’d tracked down and collected information on. Shidou Masayoshi was a perverted creep who preyed upon his own employees and blackmailed them into silence. The prime minister of Japan had _raped_ women and let his own children rot in obscurity, attempting to hide all association with his esteemed name.

 

The next folder contained another list of names, but what was written next to them… Psychotic breakdown, mental shutdown, Cleaner, question marks… Further evidence of blackmail and bribery. All of Shidou’s crimes, and the people removed to get him to where he was today.

 

And Akechi-kun had collected all this information, hidden it away from Shidou’s prying eyes, hopefully to strike at him when he least expected. Except Akechi-kun had never gotten that chance. Did Shidou know that the boy had this much evidence on him? Is that what those who went through the apartment had been looking for? Or had the man killed Akechi-kun simply because he was no longer necessary to do his dirty work? There were too many unanswered questions, but with this amount of information…

 

“Thank you, Akechi-kun,” Sae muttered quietly, gathering up the folders. She would make copies of these, go through all the notes, add her own, and hide them back in the tiny unknown coin locker. Perhaps she’d give the key to Makoto for safekeeping. She would also have to check on the locker’s time limit. Now that Akechi-kun was no longer around to pay, it would only be a matter of time before the contents were collected by management. Not that she would allow that to happen, of course, but paying for a long-term locker without arousing suspicion amongst those that might be watching would be a difficult task. She would definitely have to bring Makoto in on this. Sae suspected it wouldn’t be long before she was put under observation, if she wasn’t already, for trying to find that connection between the strange incidents.

 

But now she had that connection, thanks to Kurusu-kun’s testimony and Akechi-kun’s investigations. There was still a lot that was missing, and if she tried to bring a case against Shidou now, she’d surely be killed for it. Changing that man’s heart and getting him to confess certainly would have made everything much simpler, but there were other, more mundane ways. She just had to go about this carefully.

 

Justice would win in the end.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey there. You missed Christmas.”

 

A long, multi-pitched groan reached Soujirou’s ears and Futaba began dragging herself back up the stairs.

 

“Oi oi, you can’t be going back to sleep again!”

 

“I’m up for the first time in whenever, and that’s the first thing you greet me with? You’re terrible, Soujirou.”

 

“I suspect I’ll have to make up for my careless comment, won’t I?” he sighed, amused.

 

“Yep!”

 

“With a feast?”

 

There was an exaggerated gasp. “I want turkey!”

 

“Tur-! I was thinking more like some fancy curry.”

 

“Psshh, you make curry all the time. A _real_ Christmas dinner calls for some turkey anyways.” There was a loud demanding yowl from the cat in her arms. Great. Soujirou was starting to understand the thing too. “Mona wants turkey too. Sorry, Soujirou, you’ve been out-voted.”

 

He forced a put-upon sigh. “I suppose I’ll have to close up early so I can shop around.” He began to pull off his apron when he paused, thinking. “…Would you like to come with?” Soujirou chanced. Futaba was holding herself stiffly, obviously in lingering pain from the injury she’d received, but her mood had recovered drastically. In the past few months alone, she had advanced to the point of making short shopping trips on her own, though longer trips had been reserved for Akira. And even though the boy was gone now, Futaba would occasionally leave to hang out with her other friends. Soujirou just hoped he was still cool enough for his daughter to deign to hang with.

 

Her enthusiastic reply soothed his nerves. “Yeah! Oh, we gotta get a bag so Mona can come too.”

 

“Cats aren’t allowed inside supermarkets, Futaba.”

 

“Oh, that’s okay. Akira did it all the time.” Just because Akira did it didn’t make it okay! That wasn’t the type of behavior he’d condone, talking cat or not. Said cat began to chatter, and Futaba dutifully translated. “Besides, Mona can wait outside if it’s really a problem. He did that whenever Akira was working.”

 

Soujirou sighed again. He really was too much of a pushover. “Alright, the cat can come.”

 

Soujirou honestly had no idea where to find a turkey in Japan, and most of the stores they went to likewise had no idea and tried to sell them a roast chicken instead. Futaba had turned up their nose, proclaiming that it _had_ to be a turkey, or it was no good. Soujirou just sighed and smiled apologetically at the store owners. Daughters.

 

“Oh hey Soujirou, I found a farm that sells turkeys!” she exclaimed after another failed outing, shoving her phone into his face. A quick look at the map was all it took for him to make his decision.

 

“No.”

 

“But Soujirooouuuuu!!”

 

He would not be swayed by the whining. “Futaba, that is a three hour drive out of the city. One way.”

 

“Daaaaaaad!”

 

Oh no, the D-word. But he would not budge! “There is a limit to what I will do, and that is beyond it. Isn’t the tradition to eat fried chicken instead? Where did you even get turkey from?”

 

She shrugged. “I just really wanted turkey. But I _guess_ fried chicken will do. But only if you get a bucketful!”

 

That was much more doable. Still expensive, but thankfully not as expensive as it would have been before Christmas. And thanks to the holiday being over, it would be much easier to find a place, too.

 

It took some internet browsing and a few phone calls to place an order, and soon the two of them were waiting inside the diner. Futaba kicked her legs idly, glued to her phone, Morgana quiet and obedient in the bag on her lap. If Soujirou didn’t know any better, he wouldn’t have known they’d snuck a cat in at all.  “So, make any plans for New Year’s?”

 

“Yeah, we’re all gonna go to Meiji Jingu, watch some fireworks.”

 

“Will you be okay? It’ll be crowded.”

 

Her feet stilled. “…I’ll have everyone with me. They’re not… They’re not Akira-level key item, but they’re all still key items. I’ll be okay.” Her phone was still held up, but it was clear she wasn’t looking at it anymore. “…I wanted to eat turkey with him.”

 

The admission was soft, nearly drowned out by the loud chatter of the diner, and Soujirou reached over to rest a hand on his daughter’s wrist. “One day,” he promised. “One day, we can get some turkey, and eat it for him. And leave some as an offering.” She sniffed, pulling down her glasses to rub at her eyes, and nodded. “Oh, that’s right. You’ve been resting, so…” She looked up, curious. “I’ve added his picture to the butsudan. We can light incense and leave him a piece of chicken when we get home.”

 

“And coffee?” she asked tentatively.

 

He smiled. “I’ll make my best cup for him.”

 

She sniffed again and nodded. “Okay.”

 

They stayed like that a little while longer, Soujirou offering silent support, pretending not to hear the soft mews coming from the bag, until the moment was broken by an employee calling out their order number. He hesitated a moment before pulling away. Futaba would be fine by herself – no, with Morgana – for a few moments. And then she’d be able to hide away in the car, free to let her tears out without an audience.

 

She was strong, though. She’d grown so very strong in the few months she’d known Akira, and managed to hold it together, even after they’d arrived home. As promised, Soujirou went to the café to make his very best cup of coffee with the siphon, adding in cream and sugar as Akira had liked, while Futaba lit the incense and picked out a piece of chicken to leave in a bowl. When he arrived back, he was a bit surprised to find _two_ pieces in there. “For mom,” Futaba explained, glancing over at the photo of Wakaba that Akira’s had joined.

 

He chuckled, setting down the two mugs he’d brought back with him. “Looks like we both had the same idea.” As they shared an altar now, it wouldn’t have been fair to Wakaba for Soujirou to ignore her in favor of the newest arrival, and as he’d been making coffee anyways, it was easy enough to make two cups. It wasn’t her favorite brew, but he could imagine her complimenting him regardless. She always had loved to try whatever new brew he thought of, not wanting to be tied down to one specific flavor, even if he did have her preference pegged a long time ago.

 

“Merry Christmas, Akira. Mom.”

 

Soujirou chuckled softly. It was a few days late, but he didn’t think either of them minded.

 

“Merry Christmas.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You have to understand, he was a good boy. He never showed any inclination for criminal activity before…”

 

“It was a shock, a real shock. We’d sent him away to continue schooling, in hopes that he’d learn to be a productive member of society, but instead he went and joined a criminal gang. At least he killed himself rather than continue to disgrace our family name.”

 

Ichiko couldn’t believe her ears. _These people_ were the ones that had raised Akira? No, that wasn’t quite right. After interviewing them, it was clear the kid had practically raised himself, as his parents were too busy with their own jobs to even see him some days. By their own admission, they didn’t know what he had been up to, busy at work and coming home late when Akira was holed up in his room, studying or asleep, they didn’t know. Or care.

 

“I wonder if we pushed too hard,” Sachiko, his mother, sobbed to herself. “We just wanted the best for him, and that meant getting top grades, so he could get into a good college. I wonder if pushing too hard forced him to act out. We didn’t know what he was doing after school, after all. We thought he was studying, but he could have been getting into all sorts of trouble.”

 

“We want to think the best of him,” Satoru, the father, interjected, taking over for his emotionally-compromised wife. “But it might very well be that it was only because of _that incident_ that he was finally caught.”

 

“By ‘that incident,’ are you referring to the alleged assault case that occurred roughly a year ago?”

 

“‘Alleged!’” the man broke in. “It _was_ assault! There was photographic evidence, hospital bills, and a witness! Akira kept refusing to admit to the crime, though, even after all that. It was so _embarrassing.”_

 

Ichiko grit her teeth. Embarrassing! As if these people’s reputation was more important than their son’s innocence. And she was _positive_ there was foul play involved. Akira? _Assault?_ Sure, he might have been the leader of the Phantom Thieves, but that boy was definitely more the type to take punches than dish them out. Hell, even if Akira had injured this mysterious third party, she’d chalk it up to self-defense.

 

That was another thing that was curious about this case. No one knew who the victim was. There were supposedly photographs, those hospital bills, and the witness that Akira’s parents mentioned, but the victim himself had remained so anonymous, the only thing the witness could reveal was that it had been a man.

 

“So after the trial, you looked for a place to send him away to…?” They had just kicked their own son out of the house?

 

“It was better for him to leave, yes, there were so many nasty rumors…” _And how many involved_ you? Ichiko thought bitterly. “Besides, he was expelled, and there’s only one high school in town. A friend of ours said they knew someone who had recently taken a kid Akira’s age in – another problem child – and he was close enough to a school that would accept him. We gave him monetary support, of course.”

 

 _You bribed Sakura-san into taking care of your own child._ She had met the man they were talking about; had interviewed him just the other day. Despite his gruff voice and attitude, it was obvious that he cared deeply. The way he spoke about Akira had been much more like a loving father than either of these two so-called ‘parents.’ Sakura-san was adamantly convinced of not only Akira’s innocence, but his _murder,_ and had expressed his wishes for the truth to come to light. He’d also been far more forthcoming once Ichiko had revealed she, too, had been friends with the boy. As if he knew that talking to the wrong person could spell disaster. She seriously doubted that the man’s daughter was a ‘problem child’ either, though the girl had been too sick to meet with her. But, she supposed recovering from being a shut-in would be its own set of problems.

 

“Did you check in at all in the following months? Did this friend of a friend-” Sakura-san hadn’t been a relative, or even an acquaintance! Just the owner of a shop a friend of theirs visited! They’d dumped their son on a perfect stranger! “give you regular updates?”

 

The parents shared a guilty look which answered Ichiko’s question long before they opened their mouths. “Things have been so hectic at the office lately…” Sachiko began, surely aware of how weak her excuse sounded.

 

“It was only to be for a year,” Satoru continued. “Not that long a time. Akira has always been independent, we didn’t need to be looking over his shoulder so often.”

 

They hadn’t even checked in _once,_ Sakura-san had told her. Just wired him money every month. She was sure this ‘independence’ Satoru spoke of was nothing less than necessary after being practically abandoned in his own house, day after day.

 

…But how many other students shared his fate? No one ever realizing how much these kids were suffering until they succumbed to the pressure and loneliness, taking their own lives?

 

Well, much different in Akira’s case, as Ichiko was still sure that the kid had been murdered, but it was clear she was getting no answers from here. These people were so convinced of their son’s guilt, but they didn’t even _know_ him. And how sad was that, that his own parents didn’t seem to care or pay attention to him until something went wrong? It _would_ make sense, then, for him to act out in an effort to be noticed, except the personality just didn’t match.

 

“Thank you for your time today. Do you know of any of his friends or classmates I could interview as well?”

 

Another shared guilty look. “We didn’t really know who his friends were. He never talked much about school beyond his grades.” Couldn’t even keep up the pretense of being involved in his life. No wonder Sakura-san had mentioned Akira’s happiness, as if it was something important to take note of. “Ah, then I suppose I’ll just have to ask around. Thank you again.” She bowed, much more shallowly than was polite, and showed herself out. Maybe she’d have more luck proving Akira’s innocence and murder with his peers.

 

* * *

 

 

His breath came in ragged gasps, the sound harsh to his ears. Snow soaked into his blood-caked clothes, but it wasn’t much more than a minor inconvenience now. He was probably dying, he thought, but still he wouldn’t quit. Couldn’t quit. Not until…

 

Until…

 

Until what? He’d lost. Shidou won. He’d thought that, with his divine powers, he’d be able to bring his father to ruin, but instead he’d let himself be manipulated – _used_ – and now was no longer of any use, just trash to be disposed of. Just like everyone else that got in Shidou’s way.

 

Just like Akira.

 

Maybe he should let the Cleaner find him. End it all. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to wind up where Akira was, then he could beg for forgiveness. If not… Well… The fires of Hell would certainly be a fit punishment for everything he’d done.

 

His shoulder burned, fire pulsing through his wound. He’d been able to remove the bullet in his back (agonizing, painful), but he couldn’t reach the one in his shoulder. It was likely infected by now. And if that wasn’t, then any of the other wounds he’d incurred during his ‘daring escape’ into that trash heap would be. Despite what the movies showed, falling into a dumpster was _not_ a soft landing by any measure. And if that hadn’t been enough, his phone had broken in the fall, the screen cracked and not allowing for any touch input. He couldn’t escape to the Metaverse. Couldn’t run, hide, or heal himself.

 

He was trapped.

 

Hospitals and clinics would be watched. Police would kill him just as quickly as any Yakuza. And the well-meaning innocent ones, not yet corrupted by Shidou’s touch? They’d do their duty and report him, unknowingly sending him off to his doom.

 

…Hadn’t Akira known a physician? The medicine he’d procured for the team had certainly been of hospital quality, but he’d been surprisingly quiet on their name, and where they were. The rest of the team hadn’t been privy to that knowledge, either. Or they’d simply feigned ignorance, knowing that Gorou would betray them. He wouldn’t have given him any names either.

 

Yet how quickly he’d given Akira’s name to Shidou. From there, it would be easy enough to find his family, his friends…

 

…Sakura-san’s cozy café and Wakaba’s daughter…

 

…What had he _done?_

 

And now he was here, little more than a street rat, stealing from vending machines and family-owned diners, being slowly consumed by fever. Spite had once been his whole motivation, his entire reason for existence, but now, he just didn’t have the energy. There was no point to it, to any of it, not anymore. He should have realized he’d lost since he’d gone through with Shidou’s plan, killing the one person who might have had a chance at taking the man down. A chance Gorou thought he had, but now realized he didn’t. He never had. Maybe, if the Thieves’ plan had succeeded, Akira might have even saved Gorou, took pity on the wreck he was.

 

Or maybe it was all wishful thinking. Maybe Akira would have thrown Gorou away, once he bared his soul. Everyone else had. He deserved it. He had thought he was the hero, but he was far from that. He wasn’t even a villain. He was just a _puppet._ Now his strings were cut, and all that was left for him was fire.

 

Light and color blossomed in the sky. Ah. The fireworks ushering in the New Year. At least he’d made it this far. Maybe he could make it a little longer. Find Sae, give her his life’s work, if his father hadn’t already found his secret stash and burned it. Just…a little longer…

 

...Right after a nap…

 

As he closed his eyes, the ground beneath opened up to swallow him.

 

* * *

 

 

The crowd milling about the shrine was much smaller than last year’s, Ann noticed absently. Not too unusual; the forecast called for snow, and she assumed most would want to stay indoors and out of the cold, but personally, she thought the snow made everything more beautiful. It twinkled so prettily in the light and muffled the harsh sounds of the world, rather than drowning it like rain did. Even though the shrine was already pretty cut off from the world, surrounded by forest and garden both.

 

Next to her, her friends were waiting for the show to start. Yusuke, forever devoted to his aesthetic, was the only one in a winter kimono. Ann wondered if he was warm enough. They’d def be going for hot chocolate after this. Haru was in the fluffiest coat Ann had ever seen, and she just had to pet it to see if it was real fur (it wasn’t, but it was so _soft!_ ). Futaba had a firm grip on Makoto’s arm, bravely enduring the presence of so many people, all around. Ryuuji had placed himself on her other side, creating a buffer between the socially anxious girl and the world. And Morgana had buried himself in Futaba’s backpack, which she had stuffed with a blanket. Their hacker was still walking stiffly, but refused to admit she was in any pain. Poor girl probably wanted to get back to helping them in Mementos as quickly as possible, especially after they told her how it had changed during/after Shidou’s election. The door at the bottom was still shut tight, and with Phantom Thief approval still falling, it was looking doubtful that they’d open it. They were stuck.

 

All they could do now was continue to change the hearts of petty criminals, honing their skills, hoping that one day they would be able to take on Shidou’s Palace once more.

 

Though within the past few days, even stealing Treasures had been leaving a bad taste in Ann’s mouth. Their targets had just been so _listless_ afterwards. Obedient, ready to do whatever was asked of them. Some even begged the Thieves to tell them what to do after the Treasure was out of their hands. This wasn’t right. The Phantom Thieves existed to instill the spirit of rebellion in the hearts of people, but now it seemed as if the only ones who _had_ that spark were the very criminals whose hearts they sought to change.

 

And that wasn’t even touching on the mass exodus of Shadows from Mementos, all of them (or those they tried to talk to, at least) prattling on about how great Shidou Masayoshi was. They all wanted to get on that luxury cruiser of his, but it wasn’t. Ann had seen the English words on the back: Ark of the Elite. An _ark._ Only those that twisted man deemed worthy would be able to enter, while the rest of those poor souls would be left floundering in the wreckage of the world. Ann could only hope that the Shadows didn’t die trying to get in. They didn’t need any self-induced mental shutdowns.

 

She glanced at her watch, then back at her friends. The countdown would start soon. Futaba was teasing Ryuuji about something Ann had missed during her musings, Morgana laying over her shoulder backing her up. Makoto wore a suffering ‘why me’ expression, having become Futaba’s shield from Ryuuji, and Haru was giggling at their antics. It was the perfect picture of friendship.

 

…She wished Akira were here to enjoy this with them.

 

It had felt like they’d always known him, yet their time together had been far too brief. He was the type to make friends easily, and keep them forever. Even Akechi-kun had been touched by that special magic Akira had, and Ann found she couldn’t hate him for taking their friend from them. He’d been hurt, too, irreparably, used by an asshole adult and thrown away; murdered, just like Akira.

 

It took Ann a moment to realize that the countdown had started. The usual exuberant chanting she’d come to associate with the New Year was so much fainter this year. As she looked around, she noticed that most everyone was silently looking up at the sky, as if they were awaiting… _something_ , she wasn’t sure what. She glanced at the others and noted that they were looking around too.

 

“…It’s a _hell_ of a lot quieter’n last year,” Ryuuji grumbled, echoing Ann’s thoughts out loud.

 

“Yes,” Makoto agreed. “This isn’t normal.”

 

The countdown reached zero, and those that had been counting cheered loudly, while those that had stood quietly…continued to stand still. It was _creepy._

 

Somewhere, a bell tolled.

 

“Seems normal to me,” Futaba commented.

 

“That’s ‘cause you weren’t here last year. Or the year before. It’s never this quiet. Or this empty.”

 

“I’ve always watched from home,” Haru chimed in, “so I can’t tell a difference either way. The broadcasts have always shown aerial footage.”

 

“Hey,” Ann spoke up. “Has there always been a church bell here?” She couldn’t remember hearing one last year, but one could have been built in the meantime. It was still tolling, counting up the strokes to midnight.

 

“I don’t know.” Makoto shifted, forcing Futaba to readjust her grip so it was more comfortable for the larger girl. “It’s all suburbs outside of the forest, but I wouldn’t think one would be able to hear a church bell this far in.”

 

Ann turned to Yuusuke, who was still looking around at the crowd. “Yuusuke?” He’d been awfully quiet.

 

“It is mesmerizing.” Oh, he just had to be prompted to speak. Ann knew that look; he was in art-mode. “They act like idol worshippers. What emotion would this be? Desire? No, not quite. I must capture it. Oh, if only I had brought my sketchbook!”

 

“It’s _creepy_ ’s what it is,” Ryuuji grumbled. The clock struck twelve. “I think-” The bell rang again.

 

Futaba shrunk closer to Makoto. “…Please tell me I miscounted and that bell only rang twelve times. _Please_ tell me it didn’t ring thirteen times.”

 

A drop landed on Ann’s cheek. Rain?

 

“Is that _blood?!”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misato City is written 三郷 while Gorou's mum's name is spelled 美郷. play on words there ohoho~
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> Japan doesn't have a foster care system, due to several issues of abuse that arose, but the institutions are...honestly much worse. they're pretty much orphanages by a different name, and though there's supposed to be governmental oversight, so many places and people just fall through the cracks, and children aren't given the help and space they need and- I won't go on about this, but how orphans are treated in Japan, especially bastard children from unwed mothers, was a key factor in shaping Akechi's personality, and also definitely a commentary on the broken system that doesn't translate well to English audiences because we simply don't have the same system (same with the commentary on the justice system, though that translates a little better).
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> a butsudan is a small shrine found in every house in Japan (and many businesses), and is where you honor your ancestors and other relatives.
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> not sure if it'll make it into the fic, but the pic of Akira on the butsudan is a candid shot of him working behind the counter at Leblanc, apron and all.
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> in Japan, it is normal for parents to have very little interaction with their children past elementary school, due to full schedules on both the parts of parents and students. on the plus side, children are treated far more independently than they are in America, and what would be consider abuse here (leaving a child alone in the house for a few hours without a chaperone) would be just another day in Japan. on the down side, this lack of interaction with the parents has a psychological effect on the children that studies are trying to link to the rise of hikikomori (shut-ins; what Futaba is/was) and depression/suicide, but it's such a taboo topic, much moreso than in the States, that there's not only a lot of resistance, but people outright denying the connection.
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> google maps says that Meiji Jingu has a large garden, but I'm honestly not sure where the forest ends and the garden begins. The whole place is surrounded by a MASSIVE forest, giant trees, a river. it's so very cut off from the rest of the world and it is beautiful and enchanting and no sounds from the outside ever really get in.


End file.
